The Ticking Clock
by JK Philips
Summary: BOOK TWO in the DBC series, sequel to Death Brings Clarity. Slayers have a different timetable, and Giles’ sins come back to haunt him.
1. Touch of Nymphomania & Taste for Hunting

Note: this story was previously posted and then removed due to fanfiction-net's banning of all NC-17 rated fiction (and this story had one little scene in the first chapter that was actually necessary to the plot!). I'm reposting a censored version of it. If you want to read the unedited version, you can find it at my website.

If you want to let fanfiction-net know that you miss all the great fiction that has migrated off their site since this decision, email support and let them know that too.

* * *

ORIGINALLY POSTED: June 29, 2001  
TITLE: The Ticking Clock  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: R (sexual situations)  
SUMMARY: After my resurrection of Buffy in "Death Brings Clarity." Can Buffy and Giles live happily ever after? Or will the very nature of the Slayer tear them apart? Is it illness, a spell, or just the next level of her slayer powers?  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.

* * *

This is set as a sequel to my first fanfiction piece: "Death Brings Clarity." It's not necessary to have read that in order to get this, but you might like to. If not, well then let me just fill in the necessary facts.

Last time on Buffy the Vampire Slayer:  
After the spear through the side and the RV crash in "Spiral," as Giles is dying on the table in the gas station, he has an epiphany and realizes he's in love with Buffy. It's too late for him as the events of the final episodes lead quickly to Buffy's death. Buffy herself becomes a ghost, watching over Dawn and Giles as he assumes the role of her guardian. Buffy can't help but fall in love with Giles as she watches him take care of her sister with such devotion. But, alas, also too late for Buffy who is, of course, dead. Then there is a spell (isn't there always?) and Buffy comes back to life and back to Giles, and the two are now a couple. After a brief custody battle with her father, Buffy becomes Dawn's legal guardian on the condition that Giles remain living in their house as a kind of co-guardian.

Ok, 105 pages distilled to a paragraph. Now moving on.

* * *

Five months later…

Part 1: A Touch of Nymphomania and a Taste for the Hunt

Giles found the pages of the book to be a lot softer than he imagined. Not as soft as a pillow, mind you, but at this point they were a welcome substitute. He would just close his eyes for a moment, and then he would be fine.

"Giles!"

Anya's voice startled him, and he bolted upright. Flustered and disoriented for a moment, his glasses still askew across his face, he blinked around him, searching for the source of her voice.

"This customer has a question. And if you answer it properly, he might purchase something."

He had managed to straighten his glasses and rearrange his clothing to some level of presentability before turning to around to face Anya and the elderly gentleman she had brought to speak with him. He answered the man's questions in short order, trying not to yawn through every other word and failing miserably. When the customer walked towards the register with Anya, Giles allowed himself to sink back down into his chair. He propped his head up on one hand, as if he lacked the strength to even hold it up anymore.

Willow bounced into the chair across from him. She looked far more chipper than anyone had a right to be. "God, Giles, you look like hell."

"Thank you for your kind observation, Willow. I'm just a little tired. Haven't been sleeping well lately."

The redhead frowned sympathetically and ducked her head to try and look into Giles' eyes, which were now wavering at half-mast. "Dreams?"

He shook his head and yawned. God, his head felt like it weighed a ton. He never thought the hard, wooden surface of a table would look so inviting.

Having finished ringing up her customer, Anya joined them at the center table, informing Willow knowingly, "Giles and Buffy have been having a lot of sex."

Giles' raised his head enough to flash his employee an irritated glare. "Giles and Buffy have been _patrolling_. Training and patrolling all hours of the day and night. I don't know what's gotten into her lately. Time was she used to beg me for a day off. Now I'm the one begging. Willow, you patrolled with her on occasion in college, didn't you?"

"Sometimes."

He rested his head again in his hands. "You ever known her to patrol until the sun came up? As in from sunset to sunrise?"

Willow looked surprised. "Wow. That's some serious slayage. No, she never did that, not that I know of at least."

Giles took his glasses off and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "I was just going through my old diaries. Or at least I was trying to. I'm so bloody tired. Buffy's had me up all night for the last three nights. She doesn't even seem to want to sleep. I've gone through all my old diaries, and I can't find any times where she's patrolled like this. Usually she's only out until 2 or 3 in the morning at the latest, about the time even the most diehard of human night-owls have made it home safely to bed."

"She putting a good dent in the vampire population?" Willow asked.

"She's averaged ten or more a night as of late. Her instincts for them seemed to have sharpened considerably. She just _knows_ which buildings have nests. And last night, I think she tracked a vampire who was a good three blocks ahead of us."

"Wow." Willow watched him thoughtfully, and then darted one hand towards him, knocking his elbow out from under him. His head fell forward, stopping only inches from the tabletop.

"Hey!" he protested, as he pulled his head back up.

"Giles, you're falling over, you're so tired. Why don't you go home and get some sleep? Anya and I will keep a watch over the store."

He grunted noncommittally. "Like you both did while I was in England?"

Willow crossed her arms and drew herself up straight. "Are we ever going to live that down? 'Cause really, that was like a year ago."

"Besides," Anya added, "it was really Willow's fault, with her spell and—"

"_My_ spell?" Willow interrupted. "What about _your_ ex-boyfriend the troll? And if you hadn't been bothering me while—"

"Well if you hadn't been stealing supplies from the store, I wouldn't have needed to—"

"Girls!" Giles shouted, drawing their attention back to himself. "I really don't need a headache at the moment." He replaced his head in his hands with a sigh. "And while I appreciate the offer, Willow, Buffy and Dawn should be back from school at any moment. And I imagine Buffy will want to train."

"Come on, Giles," Willow reached over and gave his shoulder a friendly little squeeze. "You're going to turn into Rip Van Winkle if you try anymore training or patrolling—"

"Or sex," Anya added helpfully, and Giles gave her another glare.

Willow continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "You just have to face the fact that you're not going to be able to keep up with Buffy."

Giles ran one hand through his hair and nodded wearily. "Yes, I am beginning to feel my age, I'm afraid."

Willow pounded her fist on the table once, startling him. "No! You're not old, Giles. You're just not the Slayer. None of us could expect to keep up with Buffy. And yet you've gone on patrol with her every night since… Well for a long time." None of them spoke about Buffy's death anymore. They wanted to forget what it was like without her. "And now she's on some kind of slayer mission. You just have to give yourself a break.

"I tell you what," Willow continued, "I'll patrol with Buffy tonight. I don't have any papers or exams tomorrow, and I can be her Wicca backup. Maybe Dawn can sleep over at a friend's, or maybe Xander and Anya can take her?" She looked hopefully at the ex-demon.

Anya smiled and nodded. "Sure. Dawn promised to show me how to make amusing prank phone calls. Like knock knock, your refrigerator is running away. Or something like that."

Giles and Willow both looked at her strangely, and then turned back to each other as if she hadn't spoken.

"See, Giles, it's a plan," Willow pronounced happily. "Dawn stays at Xander's, I go patrolling with Buffy, and you," Willow poked him in the shoulder with one finger as she said it, "you, Mister, go home and have a long night's sleep. Maybe even sleep in and let Anya open up in the morning. Buffy can come over to our place after patrol, so you'll have the whole house to yourself."

He shook his head slightly. "I don't know, Willow. Maybe if I—"

"No, no, no," Willow scolded. She scowled at him and pointed one finger at her face. "See. Resolve face."

He sighed and merely nodded his acceptance. He was so very tired. Maybe a nice, long night's sleep would be just the thing.

A moment later, Buffy strolled in the front door, Dawn in tow. "Hey Willow, mind helping Dawn with her homework while Giles and I squeeze in a little training?"

Giles placed his hands on the table and slowly lifted himself from his chair, as if he were twice his actual age. He shuffled back to the training room, and Willow snagged Buffy as she moved to follow him.

"Hey, Buffy, go easy on him. The guy's exhausted."

Buffy shrugged and smiled brightly. She patted Willow's cheek and answered, "Don't worry, Will, it's just a little light training." And then she followed her watcher into the back room and shut the door behind them.

Anya leaned over and whispered to Willow, "Training is code for sex."

Willow merely rolled her eyes, shook her head, and picked up her bookbag. "Come on, Dawn, let's go sit at the corner coffee shop and study. Anya, tell them that's where we'll be when they're finished."

The two left Anya alone in the shop, muttering to herself, "Training, indeed. I mean, please, I'm over eleven hundred years old!"

* * *

"Buffy, please!" The door had barely shut behind her before she had him against the wall, nibbling along his neck and ear as she unbuttoned his shirt. His hands came up to stop her progress, but she only moved her attentions on to his mouth, which she covered with a passionate kiss.

When he pulled back, panting for air, her fingers slipped down to his belt buckle, and he again stopped her hands. "Buffy, please. I thought you wanted to train."

She smiled seductively and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed beneath his chin, and then up the length of his jaw, finally stopping to blow softly in his ear until he shivered. She giggled, and then whispered quietly, "We'll both get a good workout this way. And it's so much more _fun_."

She began kissing him again, all along his neck, his cheeks, his mouth, her hands moving down to stroke him through the fabric of his trousers. The whole time she kept talking. "God, Giles, I wanted you all day." Kiss. "I'm trying to pay attention in lecture." Lick. "Boring stuff about some place I'll never see." Nip. "People way dead." Suck. "The whole time the professor's talking." Nibble. "And all I can think about is what I want…" Deep kiss. "…To do…" With tongue. "…To you."

"Buffy!" He finally pushed her back by the shoulders and held her at arm's length. She pouted for a moment as he caught his breath. "While I'm flattered by your obvious desire, I'm just… well, I mean… I find it hard to believe… Are you telling me that after the shower, the kitchen, the back storage room, the car, even, God help me, the _park bench_, and, oddly enough, the actual bed, after all that in less than 24 hours, and you want to go _again_?"

Buffy frowned and smoothed his brow with her fingers, letting them play with the soft curls of his hair. "Willow said you were tired."

He chuckled and caught her hand, turned his head to gently kiss her palm. "I would imagine so. If all that weren't enough, then I'm sure the all night patrols are the final straw that puts this man out of commission for the time being."

She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly on the mouth. "Then maybe I should take you home and put you to bed."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, laughing. "Somehow, I don't think that will lead to any kind of rest." He stroked her hair softly, after all these months still enamored by the feel of the perfect silk of her golden locks flowing between his fingers. "Willow offered- well demanded really- to go on patrol with you tonight. I imagine she'll drag you home with her afterwards. And Anya's going to take Dawn for the night. I'm to have the house to myself. I've been ordered to have a long night's sleep, followed by a morning of sleeping in."

Buffy sighed dejectedly. "All right. I suppose I have to let you go home and recharge." She looked up and studied him for a moment. "You do look tired. Why don't you go home right now and get like 20 hours of sleep or something totally ridiculous like that." She grinned widely. "Then tomorrow night you're all mine." She suddenly made a face, and cried, "Aghhh!" as she bent her head to his shoulder.

"Buffy, what is it?"

"I just remembered! We promised the gang we'd go to the Bronze with them tomorrow night. It's like Xander's big promotion celebration. We told Dawn she could have a friend over and stay home alone, remember?" She took a deep breath and lifted her head to stare into his eyes. "All right, but as soon as the celebration winds down, you and me are going to fit in some personal training."

He smiled at her fondly and gave her a quick peck on the nose. "It's a deal."

* * *

Their lateness was conspicuous. Giles felt the warmth of a blush spread over his features as the gang all threw them knowing looks. He had tried to tell Buffy that a stop at lover's lane would be easily deduced if they showed up over an hour late to Xander's party. Buffy, on the other hand, had been very insistent, and very imaginative as she convinced him.

"Nice of you two to show," Xander said with a smirk.

"Yeah," Willow added, "We were beginning to wonder what had happened to you."

Anya looked at the witch in confusion. "No, we weren't. We were all just saying that they were probably having sex in Giles' car. Giles has a nice car to have sex in. One time, Xander and I borrowed Giles' car, and—"

Xander quickly fed his fiancé a french fry. "An, honey, let's not swap stories right now."

"Please don't," Giles seconded. "Wherever that was going, I'm sure it would have led to a quick trip to the car dealership and a trade-in."

Buffy and Giles joined their friends at the table, their hands still linked together. The last week or so Buffy had needed to be touching him at all times. Holding hands was fine. It was when she tried to take other liberties that he felt somewhat embarrassed.

"I'm going for a drink. Can I get anyone anything?" Buffy had managed to sit for five minutes. Nearly a record. Now she was jumping up to run for refreshments.

Everyone shook their heads in the negative, and Giles watched her bounce off to the bar.

"Giles, you okay?"

"Hmm?" He brought his attention to Willow, who had moved to sit next to him.

"You look a lot more rested."

He studied the young redhead at his side. "Yes, I am. But I can see the circles under your eyes."

Willow dropped her head on the table. "Omigod, you were _sooo_ right about the Buffy slaying marathon. We didn't get home until five. _Five_ a.m., Giles. The last two hours, I don't think we saw a single vamp, but she wouldn't call it a night. She was just itching to do some more slaying. I think she was truly disappointed that we didn't find anymore to stake. I actually fell asleep in a class today. I never do that." She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. "You can have her back tonight. I'm going to sleep." She suddenly smiled brightly. "Oooh. Maybe Xander and Anya can go patrolling with her tonight."

Anya frowned. "No, Xander and I have plans. It's his big promotion. He's a foreman now, and he gets to boss people around. I find that incredibly sexy. Besides, Buffy's the Slayer. She doesn't need anyone to patrol with. Buffy used to patrol alone, before—"

"Now, Anya, maybe if Buffy needs us," he began gently, placing his hand over hers. He didn't mention that it was Giles more than Buffy that needed someone to patrol with her. They all tended to dance around that issue, including Buffy.

"No, that's ok, Xander," Giles insisted. "You two enjoy your big night. I'm really feeling much better today. I think I'm up for a little patrol."

At that moment Buffy returned with a diet Coke for herself and a double latte for Giles. He accepted it with a raised brow. "It would seem that you feel I require a rather heavy dose of caffeine for the evening."

Buffy smiled as if she had been found out and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You're not falling asleep on me tonight. I have plans for you."

Giles blushed hotly, but the others were kind enough to look away and pretend they hadn't heard. Buffy herself merely turned back to watch the band play on stage, her fingers nervously spinning her straw around in her Coke.

The music pounded all around them, but they were sitting far enough from the stage to still carry on a conversation. Giles watched the throng of young people on the dance floor, gyrating and grinding into each other. He would hardly call that dancing, more like foreplay. He wondered if any of their parents had any idea what went on at the Bronze on a Friday night. And then, realizing what he had just thought, he began to feel really old.

He glanced over at Buffy, sitting at his side. She could always make him feel young. Then he noticed that the nervous stirring of her straw had become an absent stroking of its length. In long, sensuous motions, she caressed the straw from top to bottom, one finger massaging the very tip. She seemed completely absorbed in the band on stage and completely unaware of what her hand was doing. He reached out his own hand to stop her, to lace their fingers together and rest them on the table. She turned and smiled at him sweetly, not really comprehending why he was holding her hand, only that he was.

Giles examined the others sitting around the table to see if they had noticed Buffy's odd behavior. They seemed just as entranced by the band's music as she was. The next song began, a rapid beat that only increased the frenzy on the dance floor. He felt a tug on his hand and looked at his slayer. She was trying to pull him off his chair and onto the dance floor. It was meant as an invitation. If she really wanted to drag him onto the floor, well she was the Slayer.

"No, Buffy, really I don't dance."

"Come on, Giles, _please_." She slid her arms around his neck and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. "Just one song."

He shook his head. "No. I'm afraid I really can't dance like… like that," he said, motioning to the grinding and groping that was going on closer to the stage.

"Come on, Buffy. Tara and I will go dance with you." Willow took her lover by the hand, and Buffy followed them onto the floor.

Xander elbowed Giles in the rib. "Three girls dancing together. Pretty hot, huh?"

Giles gave him a withering stare, and Xander returned to his french fries, muttering, "Oz would get it."

Buffy, Willow, and Tara formed a small circle as they danced together, throwing their heads back and moving their hips in time to the music. Giles watched them, but mostly he watched Buffy. Her whole body swayed with the beat, her eyes half closed as if she were in her own dream world. Her hips rocked in a sensual dance that lacked only the partner to grind up against. Her hands began to explore her own body, sliding over legs and stomach and breasts. Her fingers slid up her neck, piled her golden hair on top of her head, and then let it fall through her fingers.

And then she had her partner. A young man, maybe 19, had positioned himself behind her. His hands came around her waist, and now his hips were moving in rhythm with hers. Giles waited for her to push the boy away, to show him perhaps some of her slayer strength for daring to be so presumptuous. Instead she pulled his arms tighter around her, arched her back into him as they moved with the music, and then turned around to accept his embrace.

She touched him. Buffy's hands were pulling the boy closer, caressing him across arms and shoulders and neck. Her head tipped back, her eyes still half closed, heavy with passion. The whole time they never stopped moving together, undulating and grinding together in time with the music. A dance that Giles had moments before described as foreplay.

"No sweat, Big-G," Xander was saying next to him, although his young friend sounded more than a little concerned. "They're just dancing. Buffy's danced with me like that before. No big. Just dancing."

If Giles had looked, he would have noticed Willow and Tara's dancing slow to an awkward rocking and then stop altogether, as they too stared at the young couple beside them. But Giles didn't notice them; he had eyes only for Buffy.

Xander inhaled sharply. "Ok, Buffy and I never did _that_."

But Giles barely heard the young man. His entire world had narrowed to the sight before him. Buffy and her dance partner had their arms wrapped around each other, the boy's hands sliding down to her butt and pulling her closer into their grinding dance. And they were kissing. Kissing like the world around them had disappeared. Kissing like they'd each lost something down the other's throat. Kissing like she kissed _him_.

Giles didn't see Buffy pull away, didn't see the total shock on her face. He didn't see her hands come up to her mouth or her head start to shake as if to deny what she had just done. He didn't see any of it, because he had already dropped his car keys on the table and left.

* * *

Buffy paced the floor of the living room, chewing on one fingernail. It was nearly three in the morning, and they had looked _everywhere_ for Giles. She had even been desperate enough to ask Spike to help them.

The others were still out driving around, looking, but Buffy had come back to the house, hoping to find him here or hoping to be here when he returned. He had left his keys behind at the Bronze for her to drive herself home. Giles never let her drive his car. That in itself made her worry about his state of mind.

She kept replaying the events of the evening. She had no idea what had come over her. Only that she had been all over Giles on the drive over, managing to convince him to take a detour through lover's lane. And still, by the time they got to the Bronze, she felt like she was ready to crawl out of her skin. She was itching to go on patrol and kill as many dark nasties as possible. Lacking that, she was ready to lay Giles right out on the floor of the Bronze and have her way with him.

The music had only peaked those twin desires. She had felt the beat thrum through every cell of her body. She had wanted to dance with Giles, to wrap her arms around him, press her body against his, and let the music set the pace for their passion.

When he refused, she had thought that maybe dancing by herself, with Willow and Tara, maybe just dancing would take the edge off. But when that boy had put his arms around her, my God she didn't even know his name, when he had danced with her, it had awakened every carnal instinct she had struggled to keep at bay. She had touched him, moved her body against his in rhythm to the music, and had kissed him. Kissed him with a lust she hadn't felt since Xander had put the love whammy on all the women of Sunnydale.

It was as if she were possessed or under a spell. Yeah, that's what it had to be. That's what she would tell Giles. Because she would never have done that of her own free will. She had instantly regretted it, had rushed back to their table to beg Giles' forgiveness, but he had already gone. Gone to God only knows where to stew over her betrayal of him.

Part of her was terrified that he would never come back. That's what men were like. Angel. Parker. Riley. Her dad. Men left, and they didn't come back. Why should she think Giles would be any different?

She called the local cab companies _again_. Without a car, that was his likely means of transportation. She prayed he had the sense not to walk home alone after dark in Sunnydale. She kept reminding herself that he always carried a cross and a couple stakes just in case. Still, she called the hospital _again_ just to be sure.

When she heard the sound of a car door slamming, she jumped to the window and peeked through the curtains. Headlights, and not Xander's car. She was pretty sure it was a cab. She heard the handle on the front door rattle and moved to the foyer to let him in. She remembered that he wouldn't have keys to get in, having left them for her back at the Bronze. He must have realized it too, because she heard him through the door.

"Bloody hell!"

She turned the deadbolt and opened the door wide. He stood staring at her for a moment, as if trying to place what she was doing there.

"You needn't have waited up for me, Buffy," he slurred. "I hadn't planned on waiting up for you."

And then he shoved past her on unsteady feet, his hand reaching out to the archway wall to regain his balance.

She shut and locked the door behind him. She hadn't seen him like this since Spike had turned them all against each other when they were fighting Adam. "Giles, are you drunk?"

He pushed off the wall, stumbled through the archway and into the dining room, and made his way over to the corner liquor cabinet. "Not drunk enough apparently." He rifled through the cabinet, finding only Buffy's wine coolers and a few bottles of stout ale. He'd never adequately restocked the liquor cabinet after having dumped the entire supply during those dark days following Buffy's death. "Bloody hell!" he said again.

Buffy was afraid to face him, afraid to see the recriminations and betrayal in his eyes. But she wasn't sure how much better it was to just stand and watch him throw back his bottle of beer. "Giles, please, we need to talk. I am so sorry. I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am."

He swallowed the ale and turned to her. He pointed at her with the hand holding the beer, his aim wavering through lack of coordination. "You're sorry? Good for you. I'm sorry too. You know what I'm sorry for? I'm sorry I thought this could ever last."

She took a few steps towards him, her eyes filling with tears. "It was a mistake," she said, meaning of course what happened at the Bronze. But he read a different meaning in her words and hurled his beer bottle at the opposite wall. She flinched when it smashed and broke, the sound of it echoing through the house.

"Damn straight it was a mistake, Buffy," he was shouting at her now, his voice filled with anger and despair and self-loathing. "It was a mistake to think that I could ever compete with someone your own age. I was a fool to think that you would love me, would want to be with me, when you could have your choice of any man."

She rushed forward, her arms outstretched in a plea. "I don't want any man, Giles, I want _you_."

He laughed bitterly, threw his head back and threw off his balance. His hand darted out to steady himself against the dining room table. "Yes, tonight you gave a rather impressive display of how little interest you have in other men." He met her gaze again, and his eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

She tried to touch him, but he shrank back as if burned. Oh God, how could she ever make this right? "Please, just tell me how I can make this up to you."

"Spare me your pity, Buffy. This, all of it, was inevitable. You had died, and I had lost you, and we came together to make the pain go away. People come together in times of crisis. It's only natural. And then when the crisis passes, the feelings go away. I was an idiot not to see it coming. Tell me honestly, when exactly did you wake up and realize you had stuck yourself with an old man?"

"Stop it!" she yelled. She was crying now, wanting so badly to touch him and wondering if she would ever again be allowed that privilege. "That's not how I see you. I _love_ you!"

In two strides he was on her, his hands gripping her shoulders and pushing her against the archway behind her. His eyes drilled into her with that cold Ripper glare she had only seen him give to Ethan, to Angelus, to the Mayor, to Travers, to her father, but never to her. Never to her. "Save the waterworks, Buffy. You can't fix this with tears and pouting lips and quivering chin. Something must be terribly wrong with us, or you would never have acted as you did. Why don't you think about it and let me know when you've figured out what you want from me? But I'm tired, and I'm going to sleep."

He shoved her aside and stumbled to the staircase. He paused on the bottom step and stared thoughtfully at the couch. "Perhaps we should discuss sleeping arrangements. There are just the two bedrooms now. Do you want the bed, Buffy?" He glanced back at her, leaning against the archway, still weeping into her hands. "Oh, bloody hell. You're the Slayer. You take the damn couch. I'm going to sleep." Then he trudged up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

Buffy wiped her tears away, and leaned her head back against the archway. Could entire worlds really fall apart in one night? And over a single kiss? Even with Angel it had taken a whole lot more than a kiss.

She went out the front door, slamming it behind her. Buffy was going hunting.

* * *

The sound of glass breaking startled her out of a deep sleep. She looked over at her friend Melinda. The crash had woken her, too. Then Dawn heard Buffy and Giles nearly screaming at each other, and she began to cry. Melinda pulled her sleeping bag closer and patted her friend on the back, talking to her and trying to distract her. Dawn heard the doors slam, first one upstairs, and then a moment later, one downstairs. She started to cry even harder. It was her parents' marriage all over again.

* * *

Buffy sat at the kitchen counter, eating breakfast and pretending to read the paper. Giles hadn't even looked at her when he left this morning. And she had been too much of a coward to say anything.

Dawn and her friend soon joined her at the counter, pouring themselves cereal and watching Buffy. An oppressive silence filled the room, and Buffy wondered how much the two girls had heard.

After they had finished eating, Buffy asked, "Melinda, would you like me to give you a ride home?"

"That would be nice, Miss Summers."

God, when had she become Miss Summers? Buffy looked over at her sister, who had been quiet and sullen since coming down. Yeah, she definitely knew.

Dawn glanced up then, and met her sister's eyes, her expression clearly saying that she knew that Buffy knew that she knew. "Where's Giles?"

Buffy shrugged casually. "At the Magic Box."

"I thought Anya opened on Saturdays." There was anger in her sister's eyes. Just as Dawn had blamed Mom when their dad left, she was now giving Buffy that same look of resentment and hurt and fear and _how could you let him leave_?

Buffy busied herself with putting away the milk and cereal, dumping the dishes in the sink, anything to avoid her sister's cold glare. "Probably got a new shipment or something. You know Giles."

"Yeah."

Melinda looked decidedly uncomfortable and was probably wishing she'd chosen another night for a sleepover.

Buffy smiled at her, a polite fake smile given to company when they happened to be the only thing between you and an all-out screamfest. "Hey, Melinda, why don't you go upstairs and get your things. I'll take you home now."

Dawn's friend left, but she stayed. Dawn crossed her arms and said, "Melinda invited me over to her house for the day. We're going to play Nintendo."

"Fine."

And then Dawn's icy front broke, and she bit her lip not to cry. In a small child's voice she asked, "Is Giles coming back?"

Buffy turned her face away, her hand coming up to brush away a careless tear. "I don't know, Dawn. I don't know."

* * *

Willow held her best friend as she sobbed. Buffy was crying like her heart was breaking, like she hadn't cried since Angel had dumped her before the prom. Willow didn't know what to say, so she just held her. Tara had left to give them privacy. It was really more of a best friend thing.

"He… hates… me… now," Buffy choked out between sobs. "He… wouldn't… even… listen."

Willow stroked her friend's hair, at a loss as to what to say. She couldn't really blame Giles. It must have been painful for him to see her kissing that other guy. None of them really understood why Buffy had done it. But that didn't matter. The best friend's job was to listen, to sympathize, and to badmouth the boyfriend, even if it happened to be Giles.

"Yeah, Giles never listens when he's upset."

Buffy pulled herself out of Willow's lap, turning terrified eyes to the young witch. "What's wrong with me, Willow?" She sniffled and wiped away some of the tears. Her hand came away smeared with mascara, and her face was red and blotchy. "It's like every minute I'm _craving_ the slaying. When I stake some vamp, the rush lasts like a second, and then I need it again. And if I'm not thinking about slaying, then I'm thinking about sex. It's like I can't get enough of Giles. But when I can't have him, the closest guy feels just as good. That's what happened last night, Will, when I kissed that guy, he just happened to the closest guy. I don't think I even knew what I was doing until it was too late. It's like my body has a mind of its own."

Buffy laid back on Willow's bed and crossed her arms over her face. "Don't you dare tell anyone this, but last night… God, even Xander was looking good!"

Willow sat a little closer to Buffy and crossed her legs Indian style. "Yeah, that might not be something you'd want to mention to Anya."

The two women both laughed, the tension lifting for a moment. Then Willow continued. "Maybe something is wrong with you, Buffy. Maybe you should go talk to Giles." Buffy rolled away from her and groaned, but Willow pressed on. "Really. He's at the Magic Box today, right? He's probably had a chance to cool off. Talk to him. Apologize. Maybe he can crack open his books and figure out the problem."

Buffy nodded and got up. "You're right. Thanks." And then she gave Willow a hug goodbye and went to the shop to do just that.

When she got there, Giles was nowhere to be seen. She walked up to the register and asked Anya, but Anya continued sorting through the day's invoices as if Buffy hadn't spoken.

"Anya!"

Anya glanced up in irritation. "I am pretending not to hear you, because I am very unhappy with you right now. I believe it's called the 'cold elbow' or something like that. You hurt Giles, and you shouldn't have been kissing another man, especially not right in front of his nose. This is exactly why vengeance kept me so busy.

"Now if you must know, Giles went to pick up a package at the post office and should be back in ten or fifteen minutes. You can wait if you like, but I don't think he'll speak with you." Anya closed the store ledger with finality. "In the meantime, I'm just going to continue to ignore you. Unless you want to buy something, then I guess I would have to tell you how much money to give me. But I wouldn't tell you to 'have a nice day.'" Anya turned on her heel and walked into the back storage room.

Buffy began to browse through the shelves dejectedly. She deserved everything Anya had just said to her. She hoped it was a spell or possession or a demon or something. Because the thought that she could have done this to Giles all on her own was too much to bear.

There were a few customers in the store. One, a college boy about her age, approached her.

"You look like you could use this," he said, handing her a small vial. "Aromatherapy. Lavender. I think it's supposed to lift your mood. I'm not sure, though. I don't really understand most of this stuff. My roommate's into it, and I'm trying to find him a birthday present." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Dave."

Buffy smiled slightly and shook his hand. "Hi, Dave, I'm Buffy."

They talked for a little while, lightly flirting and closing into each other's personal space. Buffy didn't really realize what she was doing until she saw Giles' figure framed in the entrance. He was staring at her. And Buffy had just been leaning in to whisper something in Dave's ear, her hand placed on his bicep as the other hand playfully swatted her hair back over her shoulder. Buffy froze, her eyes wide. She tried to move around Dave, tried to cross the distance to Giles, but it was too late. He had already disappeared out the front door. Buffy followed a moment later.

And Anya, who had caught only the last couple minutes, muttered to herself, "I'll have to give Giles the chant for Avantarin, patron saint of scorned _men_."

* * *

That night, Buffy hunted as she had never hunted before. She was no longer Buffy Summers. She had no life outside of this moment. She had no man at home who was ready to leave her because she had strayed. She had no sister who hated her for driving him away. There was only this moment. Only the chase and the fight and the kill. She was simply the Slayer, and in this moment that was her whole identity.

Chase. Fight. Kill. Over and over again. Until she had beaten her own record. Until nearly 20 vamps were dust. And still it wasn't enough. She still ached. She still craved. Her body trembled with her longing. She still yearned for Giles.

She turned towards home. What was it Faith had taught her? _Want, Take, Have._

* * *

Giles had fallen asleep, only by burying himself in his research. He would have rather buried himself in a bottle, but Buffy had never come home and Dawn was looking to him to hold her world together. For Dawn's sake, he had spent the evening pretending everything was all right, that Buffy was just out doing slaying type stuff and tomorrow they would all have a big Sunday brunch, one big happy family. Dawn was getting too old for fairy tales.

He had fallen asleep with the book still on his chest, his glasses crooked on his nose. He woke when he felt the bed shift.

"Buffy?" He blinked up at her, still slightly disoriented. "What are you doing here?"

She took the book and the glasses and laid them on the nightstand. Then in one fluid movement, she was straddling him, leaning over above his face. "I've heard make up sex is just the kick."

He took her arms, started to push her off of him. "Yes, but that requires some kind of make up first."

She had his wrists, one in each hand, and was pushing him down, holding him down. He was no match for her strength. _Want, Take, Have._

"Buffy, what are you playing at?"

She smiled down on him, and her smile was almost predatory. "I thought I would prove to you that I want you and no one else." Then she pulled his wrists together, held them down with one hand as the other reached behind her back. She drew something from her back pocket and dangled it from her fingers for Giles to see. Handcuffs.

"Buffy, I'm not amused. Kinky sex is not going change what you did or how I feel about it. Now, please, go, and perhaps we can—"

She didn't let him finish. She covered his mouth with a kiss, which left him breathless and struggling to turn away from her and draw air. But she was his Slayer, and her strength meant the kiss would not end until she decided it would end. When she did finally pull away from him, he was gasping and panting. He noticed that she had also used the kiss to cuff his hands together and through the bed railing. He tested them briefly. They were snug, and he was chained firmly to the iron railing of the headboard.

He looked up at her. She was gazing down at him, her eyes glowing with desire and lust. He filled himself with a confidence he didn't feel and demanded, "Buffy, unlock these now."

She ran one finger down the buttons on his shirt. He had fallen asleep in his clothes and had never bothered to change for bed. She ripped his shirt open, the buttons flying in all directions. "We're going to have some fun first."

_Want. Take. Have. _She wanted him. So she took him. And she would _have_ him.

* * *

CENSORED BY FANFICTION-NET

* * *

An hour later, when she had finished with him, when they both lie panting against each other, she began weeping. He could feel the hot wet tears streaming across the skin of his chest as he caught his breath. But again, he couldn't touch her, couldn't dry her cheeks. He could only bend his head to look at her and whisper, "Please don't cry, Buffy."

She laid on top of him, wrapped her arms around him, still sobbing. "What's wrong with me, Giles? I've been patrolling like an animal. And then tonight, I sure acted like an animal. I wanted you so bad, I handcuffed you to the bed and practically raped you."

He bent his head to rest against the top of hers, her golden hair soft against his cheek. "I can certainly think of less pleasant times I've been tied up. Angelus comes immediately to mind."

That only started her crying harder.

"I'm sorry, Buffy, I shouldn't have brought that up." Giles had never felt so helpless as Buffy wept against his chest. Handcuffed, as he was, he could offer her no comfort except to listen to her tears.

"It's not that. It's just... Something is _wrong_ with me. The slaying. The sex. The other men. Something is _wrong_ with me. A spell or a sickness or _something_. Please, Giles, you have to help me. You have to figure out what it is and _fix_ it."

He believed her. The Buffy who had wanted to dominate him was not _his_ Buffy. And he had to admit that her indiscretions in the last days were probably symptomatic of this larger problem.

"Shhh... Buffy, we'll get to the bottom of this," he soothed.

She looked up at him then, her eyes filled with hope. "Really? You believe me?"

He smiled for her, and there was forgiveness in his eyes. "Of course."

She leaned forward and kissed him, tenderly this time, and smiled in return. "You are _sooo_ gonna kill me, but I really have to go hunting again. I can't help it."

She hopped off the bed, collecting her clothes as she started towards the door.

"Buffy!" he cried in panic.

She turned back, surprised by his urgency.

He rattled the handcuffs against the headboard and pleaded, "The key!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she was saying as she climbed on the bed next to him, pulling her bra back on as she did. "I think they're the handcuffs from your little band candy adventure. Any idea where Mom might have put the key?"

He closed his eyes in pain. "Bloody hell, Buffy. You cuff me to the bed, and you don't even have a key?"

"I'm sorry," she said, her top sliding back on as well. "I wasn't exactly thinking ahead to the letting you go part. Surely you guys got the key, too?"

"Yes," he replied sarcastically. "We were high on the candy, behaving like teenagers, and after stealing that copper's gun and handcuffs and knocking him unconscious, we of course thought ahead to this moment when you might need the key to unlock me."

"Don't forget about the part where you had sex with my mother on top of the police car. Twice!"

Giles groaned. "Yes, please, let's do remind me of that as often as possible."

Buffy sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on her panties and then her pants. Giles was beginning to feel quite naked. And cold.

"How did Ethan get out of them?" she asked.

He closed his eyes and marveled at his blind stupidity. "He picked them, of course. Quick, Buffy, get me some hair pins or something."

She returned with the bobby pins, and he focused on picking the locks on the handcuffs. The second was much easier to get after he had freed one wrist. And then he was sitting up, stretching his arms and massaging sore muscles. "Much better," he declared.

Buffy was smiling at him slyly. "Wow, you really were the little troublemaker when you were my age. You gonna teach me how to pick locks, hotwire cars... What else do you know how to do?"

He laughed and pulled her into his embrace. "How to stack the deck, deal from the bottom, and count a three card shoot."

She made face. "Giles! You were a cheat!"

He gave her a wink and a push towards the door, as he bent over to collect his own clothes. "All skills I will not be teaching you. Although, I could show you a one handed cut if you asked nicely. Now, off with you! Go hunting, if that's what's going to keep you from ravaging me long enough for me to get some research done."

Buffy blushed, something he didn't see her do often. It was cute on her. She slipped out the door as Giles dressed. His mind churned with the various avenues of research. What could be making Buffy behave this way? He stopped just before walking out the door himself. He picked up the handcuffs from the bed and placed them in the top drawer of the nightstand. Next time, he would make Buffy wear them.

Next: Part 2: Last Call


	2. Last Call

ORIGINALLY POSTED: July 2, 2001  
TITLE: The Ticking Clock  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: R (implied sex)  
SUMMARY: After my resurrection of Buffy in "Death Brings Clarity." Can Buffy and Giles live happily ever after? Or will the very nature of the Slayer tear them apart? Is it illness, a spell, or just the next level of her slayer powers?  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.

* * *

Part 2: Last Call

Giles researched through the night. The next morning was Sunday, and the shop was closed. Perfect for Scoobie research. He called the group together and explained Buffy's situation, editing out the more intimate details of the night before. It was enough to tell them that she was putting in overtime with the patrolling and that her sexdrive had well… umm… had really gone through the roof. He blushed, and the others took a moment to tease him and further enjoy his embarrassment before he could pull them back on topic.

Her behavior at the Bronze on Friday night and her flirting at the store yesterday were both explained as part of whatever was happening to her. Her friends seemed relieved by that explanation, because none of them had really been looking forward to choosing sides between Buffy and Giles. With a little prodding from Xander, Anya apologized for her comments to Buffy, and the gang were all of the good once again.

They spent from Sunday until Friday researching Buffy's symptoms. Willow and Tara researched through the spellbooks and the rest poured through Giles' volumes of past watcher journals. Every time they thought they might be close to the answer, they hit a dead end. Willow thought she'd found a love spell, and suspicion immediately fell on Spike. But the counterspell only proved that Buffy wasn't under the influence of that particular magic. That led Buffy to remember the Tirer la Couture spell she'd done when her mother was ill. So Willow tried to "pull the curtain back," but when she looked at Buffy, she was just Buffy, without a trace of magic.

So they all focused on the Watchers' Diaries. And through the whole week, Buffy hunted like a slayer possessed. With Giles, she was insatiable. Without him, well they never left her unchaperoned. Xander was quickly taken off the list of chaperones after Buffy kissed him too. She was mortified, and it took some convincing before Anya would agree that vengeance was not necessary in this case.

A whole week, and still no closer to an answer. But then when Buffy returned home after her Friday classes, she found Giles waiting for her and Dawn spending the evening with Willow and Tara. Something was definitely up.

"Uh-oh. You got Watcher-face. Did you figure out what's wrong with me?"

Giles crossed to the living room and sat on the couch, motioning for Buffy to follow. "Buffy, sit down with me."

"That can't be good." But she did as he asked.

"I've been reading through stacks of Watchers' Diaries. There are literally thousands of them, Buffy. I, myself, have filled three in the five years you've been my slayer. But since I started focusing on the slayers who reached your age, I've found other instances of these same symptoms. I think we have our answer." Giles removed his glasses and looked into her eyes. "Buffy, I think you're nesting."

"Nesting? What am I, a bird?"

He continued, his tone and demeanor very serious. "At this point in your life, your Slayer metabolism has kicked into overdrive. Your body is telling you that your biological clock, as it were, is about to run out."

"Are we talking babies here, Giles?"

Giles looked down at the glasses in his hands, answering her very softly. "Yes."

Buffy leaned back into the couch, completely stunned. "My body's telling me to have a baby?"

Giles replaced his glasses and studied her for a moment before answering her question. "Your body is telling you that, as the Slayer, you don't have the same window of time as other women. You feel the urge to hunt so that you may eliminate as many threats as possible before pregnancy would necessitate that you take a break. And the increased sexdrive…" He trailed off.

"Would be how I'm supposed to get the baby," she finished for him. She chuckled to herself. "Guess Slayer metabolism didn't take into account birth control."

Buffy looked over at her Watcher. He didn't look amused. He looked like they were discussing the apocalypse. There was something he hadn't told her yet. "So how long does this nesting stuff last?" she asked.

"Do you want some tea, Buffy?"

She blinked, startled by the abrupt shift in conversation. "What I want is for you to tell me why you're looking at me like I'm dying or something."

His eyes grew wide, and he quickly covered her hand with his own. "No, no, Buffy, it's nothing like that. You're going to be fine."

"Then why with the long face?"

He turned from her, that same expression of imminent doom flashing across his features. He laced their fingers together, his thumb nervously stroking the back of her hand. "Some of the watchers' journals become somewhat vague or have significant periods of time missing. I think those are the slayers who gave into this drive. The Watcher's Council frowns on pregnant slayers, so those watchers were probably attempting to protect their slayers until they delivered. But I did manage to find a few references to the slayers and their babies, so we know those slayers suffered no ill effects and had healthy children."

Buffy leaned forward so she could look into his eyes. "Why do I get the impression that I'm not going to like what happened to the other slayers, the ones who didn't go and get themselves knocked up?"

He shifted on the couch to face her. He released her hand and instead put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her up against his chest. "You're going to be fine, Buffy." He placed a kiss on her forehead. "The vast majority of slayers who experienced this chose not to have a baby or were prevented from doing so by their watchers. The records of them are much more detailed. The symptoms always disappeared within two or three months."

"_Months_? Two or three _months_?" Buffy pulled away from Giles, her eyes wide with panic. "I can't keep going like this for two or three _months_!"

Giles smiled slightly, the first smile he had given her since sitting her down for their serious talk. One hand brushed her blond hair back from her face, and then rested against her cheek. "You'll manage, Buffy. And in two or three months, you'll be yourself again."

Buffy frowned, growing suspicious. Nothing Giles had told her so far warranted his dark mood. "What aren't you telling me? You seem rather glum for someone who just found out his slayer's going to be okay."

The smile left his face, and he took one of her hands in both of his. "Buffy, all of the other slayers who experienced what you're going through, after the symptoms disappeared, they… well…" He took a deep breath and just blurted it out. "They couldn't have children anymore."

"What?" Buffy's head was spinning. At 20, she didn't really give much thought to kids, but the idea that she wouldn't ever have the option, well it was like whole worlds of possibilities had just been snuffed out. "_Ever_? But why?"

Giles squeezed the hand he was still holding between both of his. He looked up, as if the answer could be found written somewhere on the ceiling. "None of the watchers knew why and neither do I. But after the symptoms disappeared, the slayers all stopped… umm…" He cleared his throat and finished awkwardly. "…stopped menstruating."

She was silent for several moments before she felt his eyes on her, trying to gage her reaction. She knew he was concerned, and for his sake, she tried to reassure him with a soft smile and a light joke. "On the upside, no more PMS." And then his quiet compassion was too much, and she just couldn't sit there anymore.

She stood and started pacing in front of the coffee table. "But that might not happen to me, right, Giles?"

He looked pained and in the end couldn't meet her eyes. He hid behind the motions of polishing his glasses. "After the first few references, I wanted to be sure. I was able to find over 30 different slayers who went through this, but the result was always the same."

Buffy nodded absently and crossed her arms. He was watching her again, and then he rose and moved to stand in front of her. He didn't seem to know what to do, but he was trying. He touched her softly on the shoulder. He swallowed and murmured, "Buffy, I'm so sorry."

Part of her wanted him to hold her, wanted to weep against his chest and wrap herself in his warmth and kindness and protest the unfairness of the whole slayer package. But she needed to think about everything he had just told her. And if she stayed here, Giles' soft sympathy would be her undoing. She had to keep it together long enough to think everything through.

"Giles, I need to go for a walk. Alone. I need to think."

Riley hadn't understood this need while Buffy was dealing with her mother's illness. He had thought that he owned her completely and any part of herself she withheld was a part she denied _him_. But Giles simply nodded, understanding. This was how he dealt with his hurts too. Time alone to think and then after, if needed, time to confide and be consoled by another.

"I don't know how long I'll be. Don't wait up."

Giles nodded again and walked her to the door. "However long you need, Buffy. Just be careful on patrol."

She walked out the front door, still in a daze, but at the last moment doubled back to give Giles a parting kiss. "I'll be fine," she whispered.

"I know," he answered.

Buffy left with no clear destination. She walked the streets of Sunnydale in a fog. The only clear images she saw were those of mothers and daughters, fathers and sons. She passed a pregnant woman just outside the coffee shop. She went to the mall, and it felt like every person she passed was pushing a baby stroller. She sat in the food court for an hour, watching mothers feed their children, and wipe ice cream from their fingers, and tell them not to stand on their chairs, and _don't torment your brother_! Fathers and mothers who weren't slayers, who could have children whenever they liked, who wouldn't be sterile at 20.

Sterile. Adjective. Incapable of producing offspring; barren. Infertile, childless, empty, desolate, inhospitable.

She had told Angel once that she didn't need him to give her children. And he had told her that one day she would want it all. He was right, but that didn't matter. Slayers didn't get to have it all.

Buffy dropped her head onto the table in the middle of the food court and started sobbing. Passersby gave her sympathetic looks, but no one stopped to ask her what was wrong.

* * *

Giles slept fitfully, waiting for Buffy to come home. He had fetched Dawn from Willow and Tara's soon after Buffy left, mostly to keep him company and keep him occupied. They had rented videos and ordered pizza and spent the evening together, just the two of them. Dawn had asked him what was wrong, but he answered that it was something her sister would have to tell her. Dawn had gotten pretty good at reading Giles, after living together all these months. So she had kept him distracted with funny stories and wisecracks about the movie they were watching. She had even discovered, quite on accident, that Giles was ticklish. He had let her stay up late if she promised never to let her sister in on that fact.

And now it was the middle of the night, and her sister had yet to return from patrol. Giles got up and slipped on his robe. He walked down the hall towards the stairs, intending to check if he had missed Buffy coming in and if she might be downstairs. But when he passed Dawn's room, the room that used to be Buffy's before they gave Dawn the bigger bedroom and converted her old one into his study, when he passed her room, the door was ajar and Buffy was sleeping curled up next to her sister.

He smiled sadly, wishing he could somehow make this easier for his slayer. He turned and went back to sleep in his own bed.

* * *

Dawn woke up when she had to go pee. She nearly fell on the floor when she tangled herself up in the body lying next to her on the bed. Buffy, who hadn't been there when she went to sleep. Dawn would have fallen, but sometimes there were benefits to having a sister with slayer reflexes.

"Dawn, are you okay?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know I was sharing my bed."

Buffy bit her lip and stared down at her hands. "I just wanted to sleep with you tonight. Is that okay?"

Dawn shrugged. "Sure." She looked towards the hallway and then back to Buffy. She really had to pee, but she could hold it. She climbed back in next to Buffy, and they snuggled together as they had as children camping, when they'd had to share the one bed in the pop up trailer. "Did you and Giles have a fight?" she asked.

"No, just some bad news."

Dawn reflected back on the evening she had spent with Giles and thought of the something he said Buffy would have to tell her. "Is it about whatever's been making you act all weird?"

Buffy began petting her sister's hair, smiling sadly. Dawn could see that her sister was on the verge of tears. "Yeah, he figured out what's wrong."

Dawn felt terror fill her whole body. This is how it had started with Mom. She couldn't lose Buffy again. The last time was the worst time of her life. She could barely choke out the words. "You're going to be okay, right?"

"I'm going to be fine, Dawn. I'll be back to normal in a couple months." Dawn nodded, relieved, and Buffy continued. "Turns out it's a slayer thing. My body wants me to have a baby right now. Kind of a last chance deal. After the symptoms go away, and I'm back to normal, I won't be able to have kids anymore."

Buffy closed her eyes, and Dawn could see a few tears slip down her cheeks. Dawn reached out, and now she was the one stroking Buffy's hair. "So, are you gonna?"

Buffy opened her eyes again, her forehead creasing in confusion. "Gonna what?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. Sometimes her sister could be so dense. "Have a baby."

Buffy seemed to think about that for a moment, as if it hadn't crossed her mind before. "I don't know. I guess I hadn't thought about it. What do you think?"

Dawn shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, but she was already getting excited about the idea. "I dunno. Might be kinda cool. I'd like to be an aunt. And you know, Giles would make a good dad. Ooo, and you can make the study into a nursery, with like cows or puppies or something non-demony. And Giles can watch him while you're at class. And maybe I could babysit sometimes."

Buffy laughed and pulled Dawn in close. "Ok, you're starting to scare me. How long have you been planning this out?"

"So are you?"

Buffy smiled and kissed her sister on the cheek. "I'll think about it. Now go to sleep."

"Ok, but I have to go pee first." Dawn slipped out of bed and down the hall, stopping in front of Giles' study and trying to imagine how it would look as a nursery, with a crib and a changing table and a little mobile hanging from the ceiling. She tried to imagine what it would be like to come in here at night and watch her little niece or nephew sleeping.

* * *

"Wow," Willow said. "That's like _huge_."

Buffy sighed. "I know."

The two friends were sitting on Willow's bed, discussing Buffy's dilemma. Tara sat on the floor across from them, listening quietly.

Buffy sighed again. "You know, I always thought about kids like way in the future. Way, _way_, in the future. But I don't really have a way-in-the-future to have kids in. I s'pose it's only natural for a Slayer's body to be like 'Come on, girl, last call for babies.'" Buffy dropped her head in her hands, feeling totally lost. "What should I do, Willow?"

Willow waved her hands in a kind of 'no, no, no' gesture. "I can't tell you what to do here, Buffy. Ask me about what you should order for breakfast or which outfit you should wear to the Bronze. Those are the kinds of decisions I'm good at. But _babies_? Ok, now we're way over my head." Willow threw a 'help me' glance in Tara's direction, but the blond witch just shook her head quickly. Willow turned back to her best friend. "What does Giles think?"

Buffy shrugged. "I haven't really talked with him about it."

Willow threw up her hands. "Omigod. Well, there's where you should totally start."

"I don't know, Wills, I just want to sort it out by myself first. Figure out what I want. Then I'll talk to him about it."

There was a knock at the door, and Xander walked in. "Hey, Will, the movie starts in 15 minutes. Aren't you ready to go yet? Come on, it's Gladiator II, and I can't wait to see how they bring Russell Crowe back. 'He defeated the Emperor. He defeated Death. Can he be defeated in the Arena?'" Xander stopped his deadpan imitation of the movie's promos when he took in the serious expressions of everyone around him. "What's the sitch? You guys look like someone died." Then his eyes got really big, and Willow jumped in to stop him.

"No, no, no one died, Xander. Giles just figured out what's wrong with Buffy."

He released his held breath and shook his head. "Ok, so that's a good thing, right? I mean, Buffy's going to be okay? Giles can fix it?"

Willow looked back at her friend, and so Tara stepped in to bring Xander up to speed. A few moments later, and Xander had joined Buffy and Willow on the bed, also in shock.

"Wow, Buffy," he said. "That's _huge_."

"Yeah." Buffy started picking at a loose thread on the hem of her top. "The thing is… If this is my last shot… I think I might want it… want a baby, I mean. You guys think that's crazy? You think I could do it? Be a mom?" She didn't look up to see their reactions. She was a little afraid of what she might see in their expressions. She was being crazy. She was too young.

But Willow sounded hopeful. "I think you'd be a great mom, Buffy. And you'd have all of us. We'd help out."

Tara added helpfully, "Yeah, we'd all help. Anything you need."

Xander put in his two cents. "Hey, it'd be like Scoobie gang does babysitting duty."

Buffy looked up then, tears shining in her eyes. "You guys are all great. You know how great you guys are? You are all like the _best_." Then came the group hug, and Buffy left the dorm in a much better mood than when she came.

She sat in the Espresso Pump the rest of the afternoon, thinking. She thought about it the whole afternoon. She wrote up a list of pros and cons on a napkin. If she was going to do this, then she would be mature about it. Mature. If she was going to be someone's mother, then she would have to be mature. That went down in the 'con' column.

Then just before Giles would usually get back from the magic shop, she went home and talked with Dawn. She sat, watched TV with her sister, and waited for Giles to get home, feeling perhaps more nervous than she had ever felt before.

* * *

Giles walked in the front door. Dawn bounced up almost immediately and waved goodbye to her sister, saying to Giles, "Gotta run. Melinda said I could have dinner at her house tonight. Back at 9, ok?" She gave him a goofy little grin and surprised him with a kiss on the cheek before running out the door.

Buffy was sitting on the couch watching him intently.

"Why do I get the distinct impression that I'm being set up?"

Buffy patted the cushion next to her. "Because you're smart. And you're right. Come sit with me, Giles."

He frowned. "That can't be good." But he sat, and he waited.

"I've been thinking a lot about everything you told me yesterday. Actually, it's just about all I've been doing." He raised his eyebrows, indicating that she should go on. She seemed nervous, and started to babble. "I never really thought about wanting kids. You know the whole slayer thing. And then you know Angel couldn't have them, and Riley… It's a good thing I didn't go through this phase a year ago, 'cause this would have really freaked him out."

She shook her head, as if to clear away this train of thought. She met his eyes, and there was something in them he couldn't read. She took a deep breath. "Ok, just realizing that a girl shouldn't talk about past lovers when she's trying to ask a man to father her child."

He blinked. Twice. He couldn't have heard her right. "Buffy?"

She sat sideways on the couch and plunged ahead. "I've thought it through. I spent the whole afternoon making up a list of pros and cons." She pulled a little scrap of napkin from her pocket and shoved it at him. He was too numb to take it. "See? I'm totally serious about this. It's not a whim. I thought it through, and I want a baby. I talked to Dawn about it, and she's totally excited by the whole idea. And I talked to Willow and Tara. Oh, and Xander came in at the end too. They all said they'd help out with whatever we need."

Giles stood abruptly. This was not what he had expected from her at all. "You talked to Dawn about this? And Willow and Tara and Xander?" He snorted in annoyance. "I'm so very glad I fit there on your list somewhere. Tell me, is there anyone else you've told? Maybe you should go discuss it with Anya before we decide if we're going to have a baby."

"No, that's ok. I'm pretty sure Xander's told Anya by now."

He turned and gave her a look of astonishment, and she frowned at his expression.

"You're mad at me. Ok, maybe I should have talked with you about it first."

"Maybe?"

"But—" She stood and crossed her arms, the very picture of determination. "But I wanted to figure out what I wanted before I talked to you. This is what I want. If this is the only shot I'm going to get, then I want a baby now. With you. So now it's up to you to decide what you want. In the end, this is going to be your decision."

He shook his head and turned away from her, walking to stand next to the archway near the front door. "My decision? Why my decision?" He reached out one hand to lean against the wall.

"Because you're the one who's going to be there for them when they grow up. I'm the Slayer, Giles. Who knows how long I'll have..."

"Stop it!" he shouted, whipping around to face her. "I don't want to hear you talk like that."

"I know you don't," she shouted back as well, striding over to stand mere inches from his face. "We never talk about it. I want to talk about it, Giles. Right now. We dance around the issue. We pretend like you go patrolling every night with me, because you like my company. The fact is that I've died twice already. The next time we won't be so lucky. The next time, I'm probably going to stay dead."

He dropped his head, and very softly murmured, "There's Marcus' spell. We could try that again."

He felt her fingers beneath his chin, tilting it up and forcing his eyes to lift from the ground. "We both know that it was a very close call the last time. The spell might not have worked in time. It might have cost me my soul. The chances that we could try it again… Besides, I'm thinking this time I'd like to be cremated. Avoid that whole body snatching scare."

Giles paled two shades, stumbled back from her. "Buffy, stop it. Stop it right now. No more talk about death and burial. You have years. You have time for children later, when you're older. There's always adoption. Dear God, Buffy, you're only 20. You have college. You're not ready."

She took his face in her hands, shaking her head. "I don't have many years, Giles. We both know that. Maybe this isn't the best timing, but it's the only timing I've got. I'll get ready. I'll have nine months to get ready."

She leaned in and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, as if he could keep her safe here in his arms forever. She looked up at him, smiling, and her eyes were shining with sympathy. "I want this. I want a baby with you. With my eyes and your smile. I want it for me. But I also want it for you. The last time I died… Giles, the only thing that kept you going was having to look after Dawn. This time will be a hundred times worse."

"Buffy, stop." He choked on her name and pushed her away from him. He stepped to the front door and rested his head against the wood. "Please, stop," he begged.

But she didn't. She kept going. "Giles, I want you to have this after I'm gone. A piece of me, a piece of us. A reminder of how much we loved each other. I think it'll be easier for you, if you have our child with you. But you have to decide. You have to figure out if you could raise our child without me."

His hand reached for the door handle. "I can't… I just can't… Buffy, I can't listen to anymore."

He opened the door and left. He was driving with no real recollection of getting in the car or turning the key. He was pulling into the parking lot of a local bar without really knowing why he'd gone there. He walked in. The place was a real dive. Dingy and dirty, only the diehard locals came in there. The kind of place where no one bothered you. Which was just fine with him.

He ordered bourbon and sat in a dark corner booth. He didn't drink. He just turned his glass around in circles, watching the ice shift, watching the condensation form circles on the sticky bar table. He didn't drink; he just thought. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. The ice had completely melted, turning his drink all watery. The sun had set, plunging the bar into a darkness that shrouded its neglected appearance.

And still he thought.

Could he ask Buffy to bring a child into the world, knowing she would never see it grown? And was he ready to raise a child by himself and Dawn as well? Could he be responsible for them both if, no _when_, he corrected himself bitterly, when he had lost Buffy for good?

Twenty-six. He had never told Buffy this, would _never_ tell Buffy this, but twenty-six was the age of the oldest slayer on record. She had lived under the reign of the Roman Emperor Vespasian, over nineteen hundred years ago. And in the end, the longest-lived slayer of all time died not in stopping some apocalypse, or in facing some Master, or in destroying some ascending demon, but was herself slain by a simple, solitary vampire while on a routine patrol. Buffy had outlived perhaps 80 percent or more of her predecessors. She was right. The next time they would not be so lucky. What was that saying again? Ah yes. _Third time's the charm,_ he thought darkly.

Did he want to have her child with him, to fill the space she would leave when she died? Would that be fair to ask of any child? To live, to _exist_, only because Buffy could not? And would the father of this child cherish her as the living image of her mother, the proof of what they had shared? Or would he hate to even look at the girl and be reminded everyday of everything he had lost?

No. He could never hate his own child. He hadn't even had it in him to hate Dawn. And she had been the reason for Buffy's death. His slayer had died in her sister's place, and in the end Giles had been willing to die for her as well. No, if he and Buffy had this child, he would cherish the girl just as he had cherished Dawn: as his last link to his slayer.

The girl. He was already thinking of a daughter. Most fathers wanted sons, but he already imagined a daughter. With Buffy's eyes and smile and golden hair. A daughter he could give the kind of childhood and life that had been so cruelly stolen from Buffy. A daughter.

Giles smiled then. He knew what his answer would be. He looked down at the glass in his hand. The bourbon no longer tempted him. He dropped money on the table and exited the bar quickly. He was going home. To Buffy.

* * *

Buffy walked in the front door after patrol. The whole house was dark, and she wondered if Giles and Dawn had gone out. And after she had come home early from patrol to spend time with them and everything. Then she noticed the candlelight shimmering from the dining room and the soft music playing on the stereo. She smiled and stepped closer to the dining table. Beautiful purple orchids filled a vase in the middle of the table. Not roses. Giles never bought roses. Not after Jenny. But the orchids were more lovely than roses, and she touched their velvet petals and leaned closer to inhale their scent.

Next to them, six candles burning in a candelabrum. Champagne chilling in an ice bucket. And a small wrapped box with her name on it. He was so sweet.

She touched the box reverently. It was "TV wrapped," as her mother used to call it, so she could simply slip the top off without ripping off the paper. She opened his gift.

Baby booties. Tiny, little white baby booties. She pulled them out and held them both in the palm of one hand. My God, did people really start out so small as to fit into them?

She sensed his presence with her acute slayer perceptions, sensed him before his arms slid around her waist. She simply leaned back into his embrace and let him hold her for several moments before she asked, "Giles, are you sure?"

"I've given it a lot of thought, Buffy. If this is what you really want, then I want this for you."

She turned in his arms, wrapped her own around his neck. "And you? Is this what you want?"

He leaned forward and kissed her. A long, gentle, tender kiss. When she had opened her eyes again, he nodded his reply.

"You're totally sure? 'Cause this is one of those things you don't really get to change your mind about later. You ready for a baby?"

He laughed and combed his fingers through her hair. "I found myself suddenly responsible for a 14-year-old. I think in some ways, it might be easier to start at the beginning. Besides, like you said, we'll have nine months to get ready."

Buffy drew away from him slightly and examined the baby booties again. So tiny. She turned and placed them on the kitchen table behind her. Then she took him by the hand and started tugging him up the stairs.

"Wait!" he protested. "I had this whole romantic evening planned. There was supposed to be seduction and…"

She stopped him with a kiss. "Time's a wasting. Clock's going tick-tick-tick. Save the romance for when I'm big and fat and could really use it."

* * *

They lay on their backs, side by side, panting.

"Wow." Buffy turned her head to the side to look at Giles. "I mean, wow."

Giles turned his head as well, staring into her beautiful blue eyes. "Yes, it is rather more intense without the... umm... the..."

"Yeah," Buffy murmured. "You can say that again." She paused thoughtfully before she asked, "You think that did it? Or should we try again?"

He rolled over to lie on top of her again, his breathing still rapid as he kissed along the soft flesh of her neck. "Better safe than sorry, I suppose."

"Hey," Buffy protested. "Don't you need to rest first, or something?"

He looked up at her, captured her mouth in a kiss. "What was it you said a little while ago? 'Time's a wasting.' I'm just warming you up. Don't worry, luv, I'll catch up."

They made love until sunrise.

Next: Part 3: 9 1/2 week


	3. 9 and a half weeks

ORIGINALLY POSTED: July 4, 2001  
TITLE: The Ticking Clock  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: PG-13 (some swearing)  
SUMMARY: After my resurrection of Buffy in "Death Brings Clarity." Can Buffy and Giles live happily ever after? Or will the very nature of the Slayer tear them apart? Is it illness, a spell, or just the next level of her slayer powers?  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.

* * *

GILES:  
While I'm loathe to say it, the fact is - the Slayer rarely lives into her mid-twenties. It follows that she'd exhibit signs of maturity early on. Her whole life-cycle is accelerated.  
-- shooting script for "Surprise" by Marti Noxon

* * *

Part 3: 9 1⁄2 weeks

"Buffy, all I'm saying is that it's too soon. You can't possibly be having morning sickness the very next morning."

She opened the bathroom door and glared at Giles as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Then how would you explain the miserable nausea and the throwing up?"

He sighed patiently. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I imagine it's more than likely just psychosomatic."

She looked at him blankly. "Psycho what? Are you saying I'm crazy?"

"No, no, no." He took her by the shoulders. "I'm saying that you want very badly to be pregnant, so your mind is trying to fulfill that desire by giving you the symptoms."

"You're saying it's all in my head?"

"I'm sorry, Buffy, I don't mean to disappoint you."

She laid her head against the doorjamb weakly. "I don't know, Giles, it feels more like it's in my stomach." Then her eyes grew wide, and he found the door abruptly slammed in his face. He heard the sounds of her retching, and he leaned back against the wall, sighing.

"What's up with her?" Dawn said, as she came to stand beside him and listen to the sounds of her sister puking in the bathroom. "She got the flu or something?"

"She thinks she has morning sickness."

"Isn't it kinda early for that?" Dawn asked, looking at him curiously. "I mean you guys didn't start trying 'til last night, did you?"

Giles blushed and crossed his arms, more than a little uncomfortable having this conversation with Dawn. "I did try and tell her it was too soon. I think it's just wishful thinking on her part."

They both heard Buffy moan, followed by another round of violent retching.

"Wow," Dawn commented. "That's some pretty powerful thinking."

* * *

Buffy strolled through the mall, eating ice cream. She insisted she was having cravings. Willow and Tara walked hand in hand on one side of her, Xander and Anya on the other. It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving, and the diehard shoppers were getting their Christmases started early.

"I don't know, Buffy," Willow was saying. "Giles is probably right about this. If you guys only started trying last night, then this morning is too soon to be all sick."

"It's not just the morning sickness, Will. I mean, look at me. Out mallwalking with my buds. No impulsive patrolling or slaying. No insatiable desire for… well, _you know_. And look! No urge to do anything to Xander other than mess up his hair." Which she promptly did.

"Hey," he protested, batting her hand away.

"I'm glad you don't want Xander anymore," Anya said with relief. "Because you can't have him."

Buffy flashed Anya a hundred-watt smile, and then licked the ice cream up that was running down the side of the cone. "See, Will, I think all my symptoms have just vanished. And I just _feel_ different. Yup, definitely preggers. Now if only I could convince Giles."

"May-m-maybe you should get a test," Tara stuttered as they all turned eyes in her direction. "From the store. One of those pregnancy tests."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, that's a good idea. Thanks, Tara, I think I'll do that tonight. Maybe more than one. Giles is going to need a lot of convincing." Finished with her ice cream now, she wiped her hands off on a napkin and tossed it in the trash as they passed by. "Although, I wouldn't mind if he wanted to keep trying. You know, just to be safe."

"Aghh!" Xander cried, plugging his ears. "_Way_ too much information. Let's just pretend this was an immaculate conception, okay? For my sanity, Buff?"

Buffy laughed as she pulled his hands from his ears. "No problemo. I won't mention the handcuffs then."

"Aghh!" he cried again, giving her a little shove.

"Oooh!" Buffy bounced in place, giddy and pointing at a store just ahead. "You guys want pizza?"

Willow frowned. "You just had ice cream."

"You're going to get fat," Anya stated.

"But I'm _famished_," Buffy protested as she ran up ahead of them.

* * *

Monday morning, and another bout of morning sickness like the day before. Giles brought her tea and crackers to settle her stomach, again gently reminding her that it was too soon to be experiencing pregnancy symptoms. He asked her to wait and be patient. Really, he just didn't want her to be disappointed if she did get her period this month. After all, he thought to himself, they really only had two, three months at the most, to get Buffy pregnant before her window of opportunity would close forever.

Buffy went to class, and he dropped Dawn off at school on the way to the Magic Box. The day passed uneventfully. Anya was in a chipper mood. She offered him constant advice on the best way to get Buffy pregnant: specific positions and timings for a boy vs. a girl. Apparently she had been reading Cosmo on her breaks. He begged her to stop.

Tara came in and worked a few hours in the afternoon, restocking amulets and crystals, on part time status now that school had resumed. Willow stopped by and hung around until Tara was ready to leave. Buffy and Dawn never came in, probably going straight home after school. When Giles was ready to leave for the day, Anya waved him off with a cheery smile, wished him good luck, and gave him a fertility charm, which he reluctantly accepted with some amount of embarrassment.

The house was empty when he walked in. A note on the kitchen table informed him that the sisters were out grocery shopping. Their mother's jeep, now Buffy's, was missing from the curb. Still, after five months, it made him nervous to think of Buffy driving. But in all practicality, he couldn't chauffer them around all the time. It was lucky that he hadn't sold the jeep after Buffy's death, and she was very lucky that she hadn't wrecked it yet.

He settled down in the chair by the desk and began reading. Buffy and Dawn came home, started supper, and left him to read in peace until it was done. Barely a half an hour later, Buffy rather unceremoniously snatched the book out of his hands and jumped into his lap sideways.

Giles removed his glasses and gave her a very annoyed glare. "What is it, Buffy?"

She pulled a box from behind her back and held it out in front of her. "Look what I picked up at the store." It was a home pregnancy test.

His face softened, and he brushed her hair off her shoulders kindly. "I keep telling you, Buffy, it's too soon. Those tests are meant for after you've missed a period, like two or three weeks from now. They're not going to tell you anything after two days."

She reached into the box and pulled out the little stick. She smiled broadly. "Then why'd it turn blue, Giles, huh?"

He took the stick from her hand and studied it. "You've already taken the test?"

"Yup. Big ole blue popsicle stick."

He snatched the box from her hand and began fumbling for the instructions. "This can't be right. It couldn't possibly give you a positive result this early. You must have done it wrong."

She began laughing at his flustered appearance. "Pretty hard to screw up, Giles. Pee on a stick, wait five minutes."

"Then this test must be defective." He handed the box back to her.

She pulled out three more sticks, all blue. "I took the test four times. Which is better than I did on my Math exam. Five times. Stupid derivatives."

Giles took the three sticks from her and added it to the one he was already holding. Four blue sticks. His head was spinning. "This can't be right. It's too soon."

"Can we get past the Buffy-was-right and Giles-was-wrong and skip ahead to the Omigod-we're-having-a-_baby?_"

He paled about two shades and dropped the four blue proofs of that fact on the ground. "Omigod," he breathed, "We're having a baby."

"There it is." She nodded with satisfaction. "Now comes adoration and pampering for the mother of your child."

The box tumbled from her hands as he pulled her into a passionate kiss. They parted for a moment, and he gazed at her in awe as one hand came to rest against her still flat stomach. He pulled her into another lingering kiss before Dawn turned the corner into the living room and started making retching sounds.

"You guys have your own room, you know. I'd rather not be around for the baby-making activities."

Giles blushed to the tips of his ears, something Buffy always told him looked adorable. Jenny used to tell him that too.

"Hey, Dawn, come here."

"Buffy," he murmured in her ear, softly enough so Dawn wouldn't hear. "Let's wait before we start telling people."

"Wait, schmait. I want to tell everyone." She jumped out of his lap and took Dawn's hands in her own. "Hey, kiddo, 'bout nine months from now you're going to be an aunt."

Dawn beamed. "Really?"

"Yup."

Dawn squealed and leapt into Buffy's arms, letting her sister twirl her around as they both laughed in delight. Giles frowned. Buffy really shouldn't be picking her sister up like that. And then Dawn was jumping in his lap and giving him a big kiss on the cheek.

"Smile, Giles," she admonished him. "You're going to be a _dad_." Giles couldn't help but grin like the Cheshire cat. It was the first time someone had called him that.

* * *

Buffy and Giles hosted Thanksgiving dinner at the house. He and Dawn ended up doing most of the work, as Buffy complained that the mere smell of the food cooking made her nauseous. Giles suspected she was exaggerating in order to duck out of turkey duty. Willow and Tara arrived in the afternoon to help, and Xander and Anya joined them a couple hours later, after stopping by to wish his drunk relations a happy Thanksgiving.

By dinnertime, Buffy had regained her appetite and devoured everything that was put in front of her. This small band of misfits, who had been brought closer than family by danger and battles fought and battles lost and death and apocalypse and resurrection, these misfits simply enjoyed each other's company and conversation and laughter. When the meal was finished, they took turns saying what they were each thankful for.

Giles was grateful for many things. He mentioned only the friends around him, Dawn, Buffy, and their coming child. But as the others spoke their thanks, he reflected back on the last year and everything that had brought him to this point in his life.

Only a year ago, he was living in his own apartment and had come here as a guest for the holiday meal. In the time since then, Joyce had died, Buffy had died, he had made this his home, had taken care of Dawn like his own daughter, Buffy had returned to him, had blessed him with the miracle of her love, and now they were to have a child.

He wished that Joyce could still be here with her family. He saw the occasional flashes of pain cross her daughters' eyes when some nostalgic Thanksgiving ritual would remind them of years past. This was their first real holiday without their mother. Christmas would be even harder. He would do his best to make the season happy for them, but he wished it wasn't necessary. It wasn't fair for Joyce to have died so young, younger than he was. He would have given anything to have Joyce at the table with them right now, to have her join in the conversations and laughter, to have Buffy tease her about becoming a grandmother. His dear slayer was likely to miss her mother even more, now that she was to be a mother herself.

And when they all settled down for a little post-dinner movie marathon, he soon found Buffy dozing against one arm and Dawn against the other. He slipped his arms around them both and pulled them in closer, one hand sliding down to rest against Buffy's stomach. He closed his eyes and promised Joyce that her family would be protected and loved. Then he laid his head against the golden curls of her eldest and allowed himself to fall asleep too.

* * *

It was a week after Thanksgiving, and Buffy was 12 days pregnant. It was nice to be sure of the date so exactly. Giles had demonstrated a manly sort of pride in knowing that he'd gotten it right on the first try. And now, he had plunged headfirst into Watcher research mode. Only this time, instead of ancient, dusty volumes of prophecy and demon lore, he poured through books on pregnancy and birth, purchased brand new from the local Barnes and Noble. Sometimes Buffy thought he resembled a little boy, waiting for his new toy to arrive, as he gleefully pointed out to her facts gleaned from the book illustrating their baby's development.

"Look, Buffy," he would say, "She already has a head, next week she'll have eyes and ears."

She, always she. Giles wanted a daughter.

Buffy strolled through the cemetery, twirling her stake in one hand. She had dropped it twice already, which was odd, but she was probably just distracted. She had taken to talking to her baby as she patrolled the cemetery, telling it stories about her adventures slaying and about the people who would be part of its life after it was born. Giles would kill her if he knew she'd gone. But she had a term paper due in the morning, and she had writer's block. A couple hours slaying: good for procrastination, and hopefully good for writer's block as well.

She asked the baby what it thought the main connections were between literature and the arts during the Renaissance. But the baby obviously didn't know.

Buffy was in the middle of Restfield Cemetery, near where she had been buried, an area of the graveyard she avoided if possible. Suddenly, she felt a cool hand on her shoulder and spun, drawing back her stake in preparation for the plunge.

"Whoa, whoa, hang on there, Slayer. It's just me."

The tension uncoiled from her body, and she lowered the stake, panting. "God, Spike, don't you know better than to sneak up on a Slayer in the middle of a graveyard?"

Spike shrugged casually. "Didn't know I _could_ sneak up on a slayer. You feelin' alright, pet?"

Buffy nodded, brushing one hand through her hair and continuing her patrol through the cemetery. Spike fell in step beside her. "I must have been distracted," she answered.

"Distracted slayer's a dead slayer."

She spared him an annoyed glare. "You sound just like Giles."

"Speaking of the Old Watcher," Spike began, looking around the cemetery, "I don't see him lurkin' about. You two birds have a fight? 'Cause if you did, and you need some consoling..."

Buffy stopped, and Spike passed her by two or three steps before he stopped as well and faced her. "We did not have a fight," Buffy insisted. "And as much as you hate the idea, Giles and I are kinda a forever thing. Especially now that... well never mind about that. The important thing is that you and I are friends, Spike, and that's all we'll ever be."

Spike dug the toe of his boot in the ground, and Buffy felt sort of sorry for him. He drew out a cigarette and lit it. He took a long drag, blew a suave smoke ring, and commented, "Yeah, well, you're probably a right pain to live with anyways. So where's Mr. Forever-guy then?"

Buffy started her sweep of the cemetery again, Spike still trailing along beside her. "If you must know, he didn't want me to patrol tonight. So I had to sneak out."

Spike's eyebrows hit his forehead. "Isn't that a bit, I don't know, _paranoid_? Not to mention against the rules or whatever it is Watchers have? Keeping the Slayer from her sworn duty's probably up there on the list of no-nos. I know the bloke's been mighty worried 'bout having you die on him and all, following you on patrol most every night like he was your bodyguard or something, but isn't this a little extreme?"

"And how would you know he patrols with me, unless you've been following me around too?" Buffy countered with a knowing look.

"Yeah, well," Spike hedged, "I just happen to live in the cemetery. And if you and your ex-librarian wander by... Oh bloody hell," he sighed. "Yeah, I follow you on patrol too. Happy now?"

Buffy smiled and gave him a playful shove. She frowned when it didn't knock him off balance. "I _am_ the Slayer, Spike. It's not like I didn't know you were there. Well, except for tonight at any rate. And I do appreciate the thought, but if you want to actually patrol with me now and then, you wouldn't have to always hide out in the shadows."

He made a face and tapped out the ash from his cigarette. "Who said I wanted to be a professional demon hunter or something? Just 'cause I watch your back sometimes doesn't mean I'm lookin' to join up with the Scoobie gang. Glory was a special case. But I'll leave you your nightly slayage, thank you very much. I've got enough demons think I should be lining a flowerbed already. Don't need a rep as the Slayer's faithful sidekick."

Buffy noticed the two vampires approaching from behind Spike, a girl and a boy, neither one of them very intimidating.

"Fine with me, Spike. But you better get out of my way. The nightly slayage is about to begin."

He turned and saw them too. He stepped aside for her to walk into battle, but when the scrawny man in the ripped jeans and the weathered biker jacket was able to send the Slayer sprawling on the first blow, Spike stepped into the fray.

Spike deflected the male vamp's attention, allowing Buffy to catch her breath and focus on the woman. This one was dressed like a bad TV prostitute, with the fishnets and an arm full of bangles. If Buffy wasn't feeling the stabbing fear thrumming through her body, she might have made a remark about her opponent watching 'Pretty Woman' one too many times. As it was, she was focusing all her energy on staying alive and figuring out how these two had gotten one up on her so quickly.

Buffy aimed a right cross at the girl, but the vamp caught the blow in her hand, sending a shock wave vibrating up Buffy's arm. God, it hurt! The vampire sneered and grabbed the Slayer by the front of the shirt, kneeing her in the stomach and flinging her several feet to the left.

Buffy hit the ground hard and rolled. She doubled over and tried to make it to her feet, but couldn't. The vampire was on her in a moment anyway, flipping Buffy on her back and grinning as she began to strangle the Slayer. Buffy tried to break the deathgrip around her throat, struggling to breathe and reaching one hand for the stake in her pocket. The woman slipped into her vampire mask and pinned Buffy's hand to the ground. She had to be the strongest vampire Buffy had ever faced. Or else the slayer herself was the weakest she'd ever been, like those long ago nights of the Cruciamentum.

"I've heard Slayer's blood is like getting high and drunk at the same time. Mind if I give it a try?" And then the woman was leaning over her, baring her fangs.

A moment later, Buffy was coughing, both from the release of the vampire's chokehold and the dust that now rained down on her. Spike stood above her, looking more than a little concerned. Buffy was barely aware of his presence. She curled herself into a tiny ball, crying. She felt his hand touch her, and she grabbed him like a drowning woman might grab a life preserver.

"Spike," she begged. "Hospital. Baby."

And then she felt Spike's strong arms lift her from the ground. It seemed like he was running. She couldn't really focus on anything except that she hurt and she was terrified. She closed her eyes and prayed, over and over again, that she hadn't lost her one chance at a child.

* * *

The ringing phone pulled Giles from a deep sleep. He reached for the receiver with something approaching dread. Buffy had promised him she would come right to bed after she finished her term paper. She had promised him she wouldn't go patrolling. It was after one in the morning, and he was still alone in their bed.

Of anyone he could name, Spike was probably at the bottom of the list of people Giles would expect to call him. Did Spike's crypt even have a phone? But when Spike told Giles where he was and what he was doing there, Buffy's Watcher and the father of her child was pulling on clothes and halfway down the stairs before Spike could even realize that he'd been hung up on.

Almost to the door, Giles remembered Dawn sleeping upstairs. He couldn't just leave her without letting her know he was gone. And if he told her where he was going, she wouldn't want to be left behind. Bloody hell. He turned around and ran back up the stairs, for the very first time cursing that Dawn was in his custody.

He burst in her room like the police on a raid, calling her name and telling her to wake up as he fumbled through her drawers for clothes. He knew his panic was likely to upset her, but at the moment he couldn't control it, couldn't pretend that he knew everything would be fine, not even for Dawn.

She was still blinking sleep from her eyes, groggy and confused, when he handed her a sweatsuit and demanded that she get dressed quickly.

"What's going on?" she asked, slipping the sweatshirt on over her pajamas.

"Your sister's in the hospital," he answered, and then rushed out of her room and down the stairs. He fumbled on the end table for his keys. He had dumped them in the dish with the loose change, and his fingers kept pulling up quarters and nickels. He finally upended the whole thing across the table and retrieved his keys.

He turned, and Dawn was on the bottom step, watching him with wide, terrified eyes. He reached for her hand, mostly to pull her along at a faster pace and not out of any attempt at comfort. She shut the door behind them, and Giles didn't bother to lock it.

He had the car started before Dawn had even sat beside him. He glanced over at her, and then pulled out of the drive before she'd had the chance to do up her seatbelt. Normally he would have waited for her, made sure she was belted in before shifting into reverse. Right now, he just didn't have the time.

The drive to the hospital passed in silence. At some point in time, Dawn started crying. _Some father you'll make,_ Giles thought bitterly. _You've frightened the poor girl out of her mind, and you don't have it in you to even try and reassure her._

He pulled in next to the emergency entrance, having far too much experience with late night trips to the ER. He was striding through the doors, Dawn jogging to keep up. She reached for his hand, and he took it, pulling her along faster. He banged on the counter as soon as he reached it, trying to get someone's attention.

"Buffy Summers!" he demanded, as the nurse walked up.

She was an older woman, maybe 60 or so, with gray hair piled on top of her head and loose wrinkly skin hanging from her thin frame. Her nametag said Emma. She started flipping through charts at an infuriatingly slow pace as she asked him, "And you are?"

"The child's father."

"Her father?"

Giles closed his eyes, tried to calm himself, tried to bring his panic down to a more productive level. "No, the baby's father."

The nurse raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't comment further.

Giles felt Dawn release his hand and then heard her exclaim, "Spike!" He turned in time to see her throw herself into the vampire's arms. He approached Spike as well, hoping to get answers that the nurse was still dawdling to find.

"What happened?"

Spike shrugged, still holding Dawn close and rubbing her arms reassuringly. "Couple vamps got the better of her. I jumped in and staked 'em. Buffy was all doubled over in pain, so I brought her here. Doctor's in with her now."

"Which room?" Giles asked as he moved to pass the blond vampire.

Spike hooked the watcher's arm before he could get more than a few feet. "Best have a seat, Rupert. Let the doctors do their stuff. Nothing you can do but wait. They'll let us know soon as they have something to tell."

Giles was numb, and he let Spike push him down into a waiting room chair. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, face in hands. Every second he had to wait was agony. He barely registered Spike sending Dawn off on an errand, apparently to sneak a couple bags of O+ from the blood bank. If Giles had been more himself, he would have stopped her.

The vampire sat down in the chair next to him, and Giles could feel predatory eyes boring into him. "What?" he finally said.

Spike pulled out a cigarette. Catching the look of an orderly as he pointed to the no smoking sign, Spike slipped it back in the pack. "You're a lucky bastard, you know that?" Spike said softly.

Giles leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. "I don't feel so lucky right now."

Spike drew out two cigarettes this time and glanced around to see that the orderly had gone. They were pretty much the only ones in the waiting room at the moment. He passed a cigarette to Giles, who looked at it for a few moments in confusion. "Steady your nerves," Spike explained and then lit them both.

Giles hadn't smoked since the band candy incident, and before that not since his Ripper days. But he took a long drag anyway, feeling the burn down his throat and chest. He exhaled and looked sideways at Spike. "Don't tell Buffy," he requested with a wry half-grin.

Spike only smiled back and took a long drag on his. "Slayer said something 'bout a baby?"

Giles nodded and fell into the familiar motions of smoking. Like riding a damn bicycle. "We just found out maybe a week or so ago. Only been trying less than two. Buffy's going to be devastated if she loses this child."

That seemed to surprise the vampire. "Slayer was _trying_ to get herself in a family way? Hmm… Never pictured her going all domestic."

Giles tapped his ash out into the garbage can next to him. "She shouldn't have been out patrolling. I told her not to."

Spike stretched out in his chair, looked behind Giles towards where the doctor was still in with Buffy. "Yeah, wouldn't get on her back 'bout that if I were you. She's feelin' bad enough as it is."

The desk nurse, Emma, came over at that moment, carrying a chart. She frowned at both men until they extinguished their cigarettes and looked properly chastised. "Mr. Summers?"

"Mr. Giles," he corrected her. He saw the look that flashed across the older woman's features and knew that he was being judged for not having the decency to marry Buffy.

"The doctor's finished examining your friend." She emphasized the friend, as if hinting that it should have been wife. "She's asking for you, if you'd like to go in. Dr. Strader was just about to perform an ultrasound. Room 112." The nurse turned on her heel and walked back to the desk.

Giles stood and looked down on Spike for a moment. "Watch Dawn for me until I get back?"

Spike crossed his legs as if he were just settling in. "Yeah, sure, whatever." But when Giles turned to leave, Spike called him back. "Rupert!" He picked at the handle of the waiting room chair, not willing to meet Giles' eyes. "I know when I don't stand a chance. I still love her, you know. But the whole way here, you were the one she was crying for. I just…" Spike tilted his head up to fix Giles with a serious stare. "Make her happy, mate. And if you hurt her… Chip or no chip, I'll put you in the fucking ground." And then Spike was out of his chair and across the room to inspect the vending machines.

Giles watched the blond vampire for a moment before walking down the hall to Buffy's room. He read the numbers off the wall until he found room 112. He knocked politely and stepped in. Buffy was alone, lying on the bed in a hospital gown and covered with a sheet. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. When she saw him, she reached for him desperately, and he was at her side in moments.

Giles smoothed back her hair and leaned down to kiss her tenderly on the forehead. She started crying again, clinging to his hand and begging him to forgive her.

He smiled. "What's to forgive? Maybe you shouldn't have gone on patrol alone, but you are the Slayer. I can't exactly keep you at home, barefoot and pregnant."

He pulled up a chair beside her bed and lowered the side railing so he could be closer to her. He slid his arm under her head and laid his own beside her on the pillow. She was still clutching his hand, her tears now giving way to hiccups. She turned to the side, their foreheads touching, the world around them falling away as he looked into her eyes.

"Giles, I'm so scared."

"I know, luv," he whispered. "So am I."

Her hand tightened convulsively around his, and he stroked the back of it lightly with his thumb. Her eyes closed, and she licked her lips. He knew she was trying to work up the courage to tell him something. Something he probably wouldn't like.

"Giles, I think I lost all my slayer powers."

"What?"

Her eyes opened again, and he saw in them the same fear he had seen during the Test. The fear of being just a normal girl, of being helpless and weak, of not being able to protect the ones she loved. She sniffled and wiped her tears across the back of her hand. "Those vamps almost killed me. I couldn't stop them. When they hit me, it hurt. I had no strength. It was like my birthday all over again."

He closed his eyes, not wanting to remember his betrayal of her. "We'll figure it out, Buffy. I promise." But he was already figuring it out. He was already connecting the dots. All those vague references in the Watchers' Diaries, all the missing time, those watchers weren't just protecting their pregnant slayers from a Watcher's Council that would be irritated by slayer maternity leave. Those watchers were guarding a secret from the demon population, protecting future slayers by preventing it from becoming common knowledge. That a pregnant slayer was no longer the Slayer.

He tilted his head to kiss her on the lips and seal his promise. But she pulled away and screwed up her face, not the reaction he was accustomed to receiving.

"Giles, have you been smoking?"

After a beat, he put on his poker face, hoping she hadn't noticed the guilt that flashed in his eyes first. "No, of course not, Buffy. Spike's in the waiting room. As usual, he was smoking. Must have stuck to my clothes. Where's that doctor?" he finished, sitting up and staring at the door.

Buffy patted him on their joined hands, and when he looked down, she was smiling slightly. "The smoke kinda makes me nauseous. That's a good thing, right? That means I'm still pregnant?"

He returned her smile and rested his free hand against the top of her head. "Let's hope so."

The doctor entered a moment later. Her nametag said Dr. Elizabeth Strader. She was young, blond, and thin. Giles didn't think she looked old enough to be a doctor.

"Well, hello again, Buffy and…?"

"Giles," his slayer supplied. "He's the baby's father. There's still a baby, right?"

Dr. Strader smiled kindly and flipped open the chart. "Well from the pelvic and from some of the tests I ran, it doesn't appear that you miscarried. I'd like to do a quick ultrasound just to make sure." She lowered the sheet and raised the gown, exposing Buffy's well-toned stomach. "This will be a little cold," the doctor warned as she smeared some gel across Buffy's skin. She chatted with her patient as she worked, trying to put the terrified young woman at ease. She asked about Buffy's name, amused to discover they shared the same name, Elizabeth, and more than a little curious about the unique derivative.

The doctor flipped a switch on the monitor and watched the screen as she moved the small doppler across Buffy's stomach. Dr. Strader frowned as she focused, and Giles desperately tried to read something in her expression. The display on the monitor made no sense to him, and he needed to know if Buffy had lost their child.

The doctor smiled at them both, and then reached her free hand to the instrument panel. "Here, listen to this." She turned a dial, and the soft thrum of a rapid heartbeat gradually filled the room. "That's your baby's heartbeat. It sounds good and strong. I'd say everything's going to be fine."

"Wait," Giles stopped her. "Heartbeat? Isn't it a little soon for that?"

The doctor set aside the doppler and wiped the gel from her patient's stomach with a washcloth. "No, right on schedule. I'd put you at about 8 or 10 weeks, Buffy."

"Eight or ten weeks?" Buffy and Giles exclaimed in unison.

Buffy settled back to process that new information, but Giles was clearly in a mood to argue with the doctor. "I assure you that's quite impossible. It's only been 12 days since we started trying."

Buffy was tugging on their linked hands, trying to bring his attention back to her. "Hey, you, ever consider that this might have happened before we started trying? You know like an accident?"

Giles frowned for a moment as if he were only now beginning to consider that possibility. He dropped down into the chair next to her bed, staring at their joined hands. "But we were so _careful_."

Buffy shrugged. "Well, nothing's a hundred percent. Happens to the best of them. Be thankful we didn't find out a month ago. It might have really freaked us out. Consider it fortuitous timing."

"But… But…" He raised his head to seek out the doctor. "But she had her cycle this month. And last."

Buffy sat up straight and gave him a look. "You keep track of that sort of thing?"

He squirmed in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. "Well I am..." He glanced over at the doctor significantly and then back to her. "I am _responsible_ for you. And the people who gave me that responsibility—"

"Omigod. You write that kind of stuff in your books? Eww! Some guy in England gets to read about my periods? What else do you write about?"

Giles stared at the doctor again. "Buffy, perhaps this can wait until we get home. For right now, I'd like the doctor to answer my question. How can she possibly be 8 or 10 weeks along?"

The doctor sat on the little metal stool and slid over in front of Giles and Buffy. "It's not uncommon during the first trimester, and even into the second, especially around the time a woman would usually be getting her period. It's called 'spotting.' I wouldn't worry about it, Buffy. You and the baby are doing fine. Although, I don't mean to minimize your fall. You were very lucky not to miscarry. I'd like you to take it easy for a few days. By that, I mean stay in bed and be waited on hand and foot." She gave Giles a pointed look, and he nodded his understanding.

The doctor released them after scheduling a follow-up appointment with an OB for the next week. They picked up Dawn on the way out, thanked Spike for his help, and drove home with the glazed expression of two people who had just had over two months carved off their nine months of preparation time.

* * *

Buffy lounged on the living room couch, watching Xander and Dawn duke it out over Dr. Mario. Giles had bought a Nintendo to keep his restless slayer occupied during the three or four days she was supposed to stay in bed. He probably never guessed it would keep the house full of constant guests and reduce college age adults to childish bickering over whose turn it was.

For now Giles had been thrown out by a cranky girlfriend, who insisted that if she had to spend every minute of every day with him hovering over her, then he was certainly not long for this world. Discretion being the better part of valor, he beat a hasty retreat and left her in the care of the other Scoobies.

Willow sat on the floor beside the couch, casting half an eye on Xander and Dawn's game as she talked with Buffy. "So 8 or 10 weeks, huh?"

"Yeah," Buffy said. "Baby's a boo-boo. Although Giles got mad when I called it that."

"How's he taking it?" her friend asked.

"I think he's mostly embarrassed, so I wouldn't tease him about it if I were you. He wanted to be like 'The Man with the Plan.' Now he's just the man who knocked up his girlfriend. I think he wants to apologize for it or something. I have to keep reminding him that we _wanted_ a baby."

"So, how are _you_ taking it?"

Buffy shrugged. "Mildly freaked out. I was _supposed_ to have nine months to get ready. Now I have less than seven. Middle of July instead of the end of August. But the heartbeat was really cool, Will. You should have heard it. I have a little person's heart beating inside me."

Willow smiled and put her hand on Buffy's flat tummy. "How long you have to stay like this?"

Buffy sighed and tossed her head back. She was getting _sooo_ bored with just laying around. Giles only let her up to go to the bathroom, and even then it was an interrogation to see if she was trying to cheat her bedrest. "Doctor said two more days. Giles says three. I'm going batty here, Will."

Xander jumped to his feet, his hands raised in victory. "Who's the man?"

Dawn crossed her arms. "You are. You're such the man. You can beat a 14-year-old girl. I think my speed's set too high. I should get a handicap."

Xander laughed and started tickling Dawn until she giggled. "I think someone's just a sore loser." He had pity on her and let her up, turning towards the couch. "Hey, Buff, want to play?"

"Naw," she answered. "You'll just cry when I beat you, and then I'll feel all bad." She could see he would have tickled her too, except perhaps that he feared the wrath of Giles. Sometimes there were advantages to being pregnant.

* * *

Giles turned the handle on the bedroom door, but it was locked. That was very odd. He didn't even realize their bedroom door had a lock.

"Buffy?"

"Go away."

He could tell that she was crying. "Buffy, is something wrong? Please let me in." He tried the handle again, even applied a little force. He was growing concerned. "Buffy, please, you're worrying me."

The door opened a crack and one red-rimmed eye poked out. "None of my pants fit," she informed him.

He tried not to smile. That would only make her angry. He pushed the door open further, and she let him take her in his arms. "That's to be expected, Buffy. It will probably be a long while before they fit you again. But that doesn't change how beautiful you are."

"Sweet talker," she mumbled against his chest. She pulled away from him and walked back into the bedroom. Clothes were strewn everywhere, across the bed, the floor, hanging off of the nightstand and even the lampshade. She must have tried on 30 pairs of pants.

Buffy flopped down on the bed, clad only in a T-shirt and undies. Giles could see the slightest curve to her stomach, and then he did smile in spite of himself.

"Giles," she wailed. "It's just happening too fast. They all fit just yesterday, maybe a little snug. Today I can't even zip them up."

Something she said clicked inside his head. _It's just happening too fast._ A suspicion began to grow inside him, and he felt his stomach knot up. He wouldn't say anything to Buffy, not until after the doctor's appointment confirmed or denied his hypothesis. No need to worry her for nothing. But he was beginning to wonder if the Watchers' Diaries with their vague comments and missing chunks of time, if maybe they weren't hiding more than pregnant slayers who'd lost their powers.

"Come on, Buffy," he told her. "Put on a pair of sweats or something loose. We'll be late for the doctor's appointment."

* * *

Buffy paced the length of the living room over and over again. Giles had been Mr. Research ever since they got back. And he wouldn't tell her _anything_. Not until he was sure, he told her. He didn't even eat dinner with her and Dawn. Buffy just brought him a plate and set it on the coffee table. It was after dark, and he hadn't eaten more than half of it.

After about the fifth time Buffy had snapped at her sister, Dawn had slunk off to her own room, muttering about hormones. Now just her and Giles in the living room. And he might as well be a million miles away for as much as he noticed her presence. A strange mix of old journals and new pregnancy books lie open across the coffee table. Giles kept punching numbers into a calculator.

"Giles!" she tried again, bending over into his line of sight. "Come on. You said you had the explanation for our incompetent doctor. So start explaining already. I'm having visions of alien babies here."

He twisted away from her, still buried in his book. "Please, just a minute. I almost have it."

She huffed and resumed her pacing. Giles hadn't seemed the least bit surprised when the doctor told them she was 12 to 14 weeks along and put the due date at the middle of June. Buffy was ready to demand a second opinion, but Giles had quickly silenced her, played the passive patient for the doctor, and then ushered them out as quickly as possible. Another month carved out of their prep time. Now only six months or less.

"Dear Lord," he breathed, leaning back against the couch in a daze.

Buffy was at his side in a second. "What is it? Come on, share already!"

He looked up at her, and then drew her to sit down in his lap. Uh-oh. This couldn't be good.

"Buffy," he began. He was still staring off into space, his eyes glazed over. "I've done the calculations three times. I think you lost your slayer gifts, because your metabolism is focused on this pregnancy. You did conceive that first night we tried."

"But, Giles—"

He silenced her with a finger on the lips. "That puts you at twenty days right now. Taking that, plus the timing of the various symptoms you've experienced, adding in the estimate the doctor in the ER gave us, and now the very different estimate the OB doctor gave us, I think I've determined your real due date. Buffy, we don't have nine months. We have nine weeks."

"What?" She collapsed against him, her eyes glazing over as well. "Nine _weeks_?"

"Well, closer to six weeks now, actually. Near the end of January, I believe."

"Omigod! Don't slayers get to do anything by the book?"

"Apparently not," he answered, now absently running his fingers through her hair.

Suddenly she bolted off his lap. "Omigod! Giles, how far will I be on January 5th?"

He adjusted his glasses and leaned forward to look over his calculations. He punched something in the calculator. "Six months."

Buffy groaned. "Anya is totally going to kill me. I'll have to have my bridesmaid's dress completely refitted. I'll look like a big orange pumpkin."

Giles quickly punched some more numbers into the calculator, and sank back into the couch. "Buffy, isn't your father's wedding the following weekend?"

Her eyes grew even wider, and her hand came up to cover her mouth. "I'll have to be refitted for that dress too."

"I was thinking more along the lines of you showing up at your father's wedding seven months pregnant. He hates me enough as it is. Now he really is going to kill me." Giles removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. This was turning into a nightmare. There was no way they would be ready for a baby in six weeks.

"Giles," she said softly, crawling back into his lap. "Is this like a pregnancy thing? Or will the baby… I mean… Should we be looking at colleges for next year?"

He chuckled and rubbed her back reassuringly. "No, it's just a slayer thing. Your body's speeding things along. It makes sense, really. The Slayer can't afford to be out of commission for nine months. After the baby is born, she should be just fine."

Buffy sighed, and they both sat in silence for a moment. It really was rather overwhelming.

"What do we do?" She sounded very small and very frightened. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, trying to lend her some of his own strength.

"Well," he started, thinking through the whole matter from a more practical standpoint. "We make a list of everything that must be done before the baby comes. The others will help, I'm sure. Then there are the doctor appointments. We will need some help from the Council, either by sending us a doctor we can trust or by fudging your medical records. If it's the latter, then you'll have to see a different doctor at each visit."

He continued on, his mind working through the problem logically, the rest of him completely numb from the implications. "I hate to do this to you, Buffy, but you'll have to drop out next semester. Finish your exams for this term, but then the next… It would be rather hard to explain your sudden pregnancy after just the Christmas recess. You shouldn't leave the house much at the end, either. People would ask too many questions." He hugged her closely and kissed her on the forehead. "Everything will be fine. We'll work it all out. Please don't worry."

Buffy snuggled up closer. "What would I do without you?"

He laughed deprecatingly. "I imagine you wouldn't be in this mess in the first place." He slid her off his lap. "Now, do you want to tell Dawn, or should we both do it?"

Buffy shook her head. "I better do it. Actually, I think she'll be excited. Nine months seemed like a long time to her." And his slayer headed up the stairs to enlighten her sister on the recent turn of events.

Six more weeks and he would be a father. He couldn't comprehend it.

* * *

A black Accord with out of state plates pulled up across the street from 1630 Revello Drive. The driver killed the lights and engine, and then snapped a telephoto lens on his digital camera.

"People should learn to draw their shades," he murmured as he took half a dozen photos. He waited for the man to turn for a clear shot, and then- click- the driver snapped one last picture.

A laptop rested on the passenger seat, and the digital camera was quickly plugged into its port. He downloaded the images and attached them to an email. He encoded it, and then sent it. Nothing left but to wait for the phone call.

Ring. He answered his cell before the second ring.

"It's me," he said simply. "That your man?… All right, then, target acquired. I'll need the first half up front… What?… No really, I prefer to work alone… Fine, but it'll cost you another five if you want me to play nice with others… Agreed. So where am I meeting this contact of yours?"

The driver reached across to the laptop and opened up notepad. He typed in the directions to the rendezvous.

"Make sure he knows that I'm in charge of this operation… Yes, of course… I understand. Not quick at all. I'm good at these kinds of games. I'll keep your friend 'entertained' until you can arrive. You are still planning to be there for the big finale?… Good. So this guy I'm meeting, what's his name?"

The driver typed below the directions: R- A- Y- N- E.

"Ok, got it. Ethan Rayne. Tell him not to be late. I hate waiting. I charge extra for that."

Click. He hung up the phone. Moments later, the black Accord had pulled away and was gone.

Next: Part 4: The Ghost of Christmas Past


	4. Ghost of Christmas Past

ORIGINALLY POSTED: July 8, 2001  
TITLE: The Ticking Clock  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: PG  
SUMMARY: After my resurrection of Buffy in "Death Brings Clarity." Can Buffy and Giles live happily ever after? Or will the very nature of the Slayer tear them apart? Is it illness, a spell, or just the next level of her slayer powers?  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.

* * *

Part 4: The Ghost of Christmas Past

Buffy studied her profile in the full-length mirror. She smoothed the T-shirt over her rounded stomach and looked down. She couldn't even see her feet. She heard Giles' laughter behind her, and spun quickly to see him leaning against the bedroom doorway, his arms crossed.

"If you're going to get that big, perhaps we should rethink this whole baby thing."

Buffy pulled the pillow out from under her shirt and threw it at him. He ducked.

"Willow and Tara are taking me shopping for maternity clothes. I was trying to get an idea of what size I'll need. And you should know better than to mock your pregnant girlfriend." He looked away at the word girlfriend. He did that a lot lately.

Buffy grabbed her purse and swept past him. "We're going Christmas shopping after. It's only two weeks away. You promised to get a tree on the way home from the shop. Don't forget." She stopped and walked back to him, remembering that she'd forgotten to kiss him. "Oh, and I'll pick up Dawn after school. You gave Anya the afternoon off, and we're all going for our final fittings." She frowned and picked up the pillow from where it had landed on the floor. "Maybe I should take the pillow for my fitting. You think this is six months?" She shrugged. "They can always take it in before the wedding. They'll have to fit me again right before anyway. How will I explain that one? Maybe I should wear it to my fitting."

Buffy stuffed the pillow under one arm and the purse under the other, not noticing that Giles had merely listened to her babbling without comment. He didn't seem to be taking this as well as she. He was really and truly freaked out. She had taken a few days to adjust, but now she just accepted that they had a baby coming in about five and a half weeks. Kind of like getting the overnight shipping instead of the standard ground. She had even started to look for the silver lining. Her morning sickness had already gone, and she wouldn't have to spend months feeling big, awkward, and uncomfortable.

Giles, on the other hand, was in a panic. He made The List. The List was carried around on his person at all times, constantly added to as more necessities came to mind. Sometimes The List was copied off and highlighted, so that others could help finish some of the tasks. Always next to The List could be found The Calendar. He had distilled volumes of pregnancy books and converted all the relevant dates into their own timetable, which he then wrote in teeny, tiny fly writing on The Calendar. Also could be found important dates like Xander and Anya's wedding, her father's wedding, Christmas, New Year's, and Dawn's birthday. The fact that the last five weeks before the baby came spanned all of these events only added to her poor watcher's stress levels.

Once she had written in "de-stress Giles" on The List, but he had not been amused. He had crossed the offending item off and explained in very serious tones the importance of The List and The Calendar. She had struggled not to laugh.

In spite of all her teasing, she was grateful for Giles' organization and planning. In the four days since their due date had abruptly shifted, Giles had already emptied his study in preparation for a nursery, gotten the Council to fly in a doctor from their ranks to care for her until term, convinced Spike to patrol in Buffy's place, and purchased a beeper for the big event. He had even gotten them signed up for a one day crash course in Lamaze. The normal courses spanned weeks, which in their case was quite impossible.

Sometimes he had nightmares. Not as bad as when she had died, but still worrisome. At least until she heard him mumble things like, "Not yet, Buffy, we don't have a crib." and "They won't let us take her home without a car seat." She would snuggle a little closer, and usually that was enough to settle him back into a peaceful slumber.

She met her two favorite witches at the mall. Her friends were all cool with the new timetable. Shoot, it wasn't their baby. All this meant for them was less waiting before they could start spoiling it.

"So how is the pregnant one today?" Willow asked as they met outside the Gap.

"Perfect," Buffy answered.

"And the little Rabbit?" Willow had taken to calling the baby Rabbit after commenting that nine weeks sounded more like the time it took to grow rabbits than babies.

Buffy patted her stomach. In sweats and a baggy T-shirt, it still looked pretty flat, although when she ran her hand across it, one could see the slight roundness developing there. "Little Rabbit's had me in sweatpants the last four days. Come on, let's find something more fashionable."

They headed off to Motherwear, chatting as they went.

"So how is Giles today?" Tara asked. It was always smart to keep tabs on the mood of one's employer.

"Yeah," Willow seconded. "Anything more from The List that we're supposed to be doing?"

"Probably. I didn't stop to ask."

Willow took Tara's hand and swung it between them as they walked. "So is he still wigging? Or is he a little cooler now?"

"Totally wigging. Sometimes I think he feels like he's the guy in the movie who's defusing a bomb. And there's like that big clock going 10, 9, 8… And he doesn't know if he'll find the right wire in time. Yeah, sometimes it seems like he's got that big digital clock superimposed right over The List. Every time he looks at it, he just gets that panicky glazed expression. Strangely enough, though, at other times I think he's just glad that he didn't get me pregnant on accident. He's proud to be just the One-Try Guy again."

Barely an hour after entering the maternity store, Buffy exited in a foul mood, carrying only one bag and with the two witches following at a safe distance.

"Does no one make decent maternity clothes? I mean, jeeze, they have Baby Gap, don't they? Where's my Mommy Gap? Everything they had in there was stuff... well, stuff that I could see _Giles_ buying for me. Much more his taste."

"It's only five weeks or so, Buffy," Willow attempted to cheer her up. "And I don't think they make the kinds of clothes you like to wear for people..." she trailed off, seemingly aware she was crossing over into dangerous territory.

Buffy shrugged. "For people as fat as I'm going to get? It's okay, Will. I've accepted it. I'm hoping the whole slayer package will trim me back up after the baby comes."

Tara suggested, "Maybe you can just buy normal clothes, but in bigger sizes."

Buffy brightened. "Hey, there's a thought. Come on girls, more shopping!"

By the time they left to pick up Dawn, Buffy had accumulated a trunk full of clothes. Probably more than she would ever really wear for the remaining five and a half weeks of her pregnancy, but clothes were her thing, and Buffy saw no reason to sacrifice her fashion sense just because she was going to be a mother. Although, Giles might tend to argue with her when he saw how much she'd spent.

Then off to the bridal shop, where Anya was haggling with the clerks over the cost of alterations. To turn Buffy's dress into maternity wear would cost nearly as much as the dress itself. In the end, Anya was a tough customer and had bargained them down to half the original quote, plus a discount on the other bridesmaids' dresses as well.

Buffy had the dress for her father's wedding altered at the same time. She still hadn't worked up how to inform him of his impending grandfatherly status. Walking down the aisle at his wedding seven months along didn't seem like such a good idea, although it could be rather fun. But really, she didn't hate Susan _that_ much. Besides, Buffy would rather Giles lived through the night.

Alterations were quickly followed by Christmas shopping, and the group split off and came together several times so people could buy things for each other. Buffy found an exquisite gold pocketwatch for Giles. The kind of solid watch you passed down through generations. She immediately fell in love with it. Dawn thought that she was being extravagant and that Giles was likely to be cross with Buffy for spending so much. But Buffy wanted him to have it. It reminded her of the Giles she had first met back in the library at the very beginning, before Jenny and Angelus and all the pain his slayer had caused him. The stuffy English librarian with his tweed suits and waistcoats. She'd always thought he should have a pocketwatch tucked in the front of his vest. It just fit him more than a wristwatch. She imagined that he would have pulled it out, snapped it open, and timed her during training and patrol. _Plunge and move on, plunge and move on_, he had scolded her.

So she plunged and moved on, purchasing the watch and placing an order with the jeweler to have it engraved. One word in perfect calligraphy to be carved on the inside cover. Daddy.

The watch was ready an hour later, and the others were too. They met again by the gift wrapping, teasing each other with hints about their gifts. Since Buffy had purchased nothing for Dawn today, she asked her sister to have everything wrapped for her while she made a run to the restroom. If she had to go this often already, she couldn't imagine what it would be like five weeks from now. She gave Dawn one last reminder to put gift tags on everything, or it would be a nightmare to sort out on Christmas day.

"Oh, and don't let anyone see Giles' present," she admonished as she headed off to the bathrooms near the food court. "I want it to be a surprise."

At the end of the day, Buffy pulled into the driveway and started unloading the car, somewhat grateful that she had beaten Giles home. Maybe he wouldn't notice how much stuff she had bought. Her feet were achy, and she was tired. She considered taking a long hot soak in the tub. The very thought made her perhaps a little too eager to get in the door. She didn't notice the envelope resting on the front step.

Dawn noticed it as she followed her sister in, and handed it to Buffy. "What's this?"

Buffy frowned and examined the plain manila envelope. No address or postage, it had been hand delivered. On the front were simply the letters "R.G." She opened it and pulled out an 8 by 10 black and white photo.

"What is it?" Dawn asked again, leaning over to see.

An old photo of five young ruffians, standing together in the alleyway outside an unsavory pub. None of them more than 20 or 21, the only woman in the picture probably closer to 16 or 17. They wore the kind of expressions that if the average person saw them approaching from down the block, he would cross the street to avoid them.

Buffy recognized the man straddling the motorcycle. Ethan Rayne. Younger, unkempt hair, dressed in leather, smoking a cigarette, and grinning at the camera with the same devil-may-care smirk she remembered receiving as he tied her down and tattooed the big demon homing signal on the back of her neck.

There was only one other person she knew from the photograph. Giles. His hair was long like Ethan's, but in that stylish rock star look, like in the photo Xander had shown her after Eyghon. He was smiling at the camera too, but in the way a hunter must smile before he takes down his prey. She shivered at the thought of the very different man Giles might have become, had he continued down that path. Ethan, for all his bravado, was nothing but a coward beneath. But Giles, if he had taken the path of dark magic and demon summoning and chaos, would have become a man to be feared. She had seen glimmers of it, when he had faced Ethan or the Mayor or when she had watched him strangle Ben in his dream. Giles could have become a man to equal Angelus.

In the photo, he held the young woman against him with one arm, his hand low across her hip, nearly at her groin. His other hand held a cigarette away from their bodies, the ash having burned so far up its length that the slightest breeze could have dissolved the whole thing. And the woman, the girl really since she couldn't be more than 16, she was leaning back against his chest, her head tipped up to whisper something in his ear. The expression on her face was one of complete adoration. But Giles didn't return her affection. He was focused on the camera, grinning that predatory grin at whoever was taking the picture.

Buffy felt uneasy. Not because of the content of the photo. What did she care about his past lovers? Giles had found his girlfriend murdered, her body arranged in his bed in a cruel mockery of seduction, was captured, and then sadistically tortured, all done by Buffy's ex-boyfriend. Was she supposed to get worked up over a twenty-year-old photo of Giles holding another woman in his arms?

No, what left her cold was the fact that someone had left this on her doorstep in the first place. They knew where she lived and were near enough to have hand delivered it today. More than that, the initials on the outside indicated that it was meant for Giles.

She turned the photo over. Written clearly on the glossy paper were the words, _Why didn't you come back for me_?

"Let me see already." Dawn snatched the picture from her hand, turning it over to study the young delinquents again. She peered intently, and then her eyes widened. "Wow. Is that Giles? He was pretty cute when he was young. If he looked like that now, maybe I could understand why you—"

"Dawn," Buffy interrupted, grabbing her hand and backing them both out of the house. "Come on, I'm taking you next door. I want you to wait with Mrs. Isaacson until I say it's okay to come home."

Mrs. Isaacson was happy to watch Dawn for a few minutes, but Buffy had to talk her out of calling the police.

Buffy returned to the front door and stepped in hesitantly. She hoped Giles would be back soon. She didn't relish a confrontation with an intruder without her slayer powers. She pulled out a small saber from inside the front closet. She still had the knowledge, if not the strength or the reflexes. She took a few steps before she frowned and looked back at the closet. That would have to be childproofed. She would have to tell Giles to add it to The List.

She made a quiet sweep of the house, upstairs and down, but no sign of trespass. And then she heard footsteps on the stairs behind her and spun 180 degrees, her sword leveled.

"Jesus, Buffy!" Giles exclaimed, stumbling backwards on the steps and grabbing the rail to keep from falling. "What are you doing?"

The saber clattered to the floor, and she threw herself in his arms. "I'm so glad you're home."

He stroked her back fondly, asking softly, "Is this a slayer pregnancy thing? Should I start wearing protective gear around the house?"

She scowled at him in irritation. "No, but someone was at the house. They left something on the porch for you."

He looked concerned. "Show me."

She took him back downstairs and gave him the picture, but he didn't seem as surprised as she thought he should be.

"Who's the girl?"

His face was contemplative, lost in memories. One finger stroked along the woman's outline. "Diedre Page. Ethan found her waiting tables in some dive strip club. She'd run away from home and just gotten thrown out of her flat. He brought her to ours. I think he was rather put out when she fancied me over him." Giles shook himself out of his reverie and met Buffy's gaze. "Does it bother you?"

She shrugged. "No more than Angel should bother you." A pause. "Okay, bad example. I meant, no it doesn't bother me. Who are the others?"

He didn't point out Ethan. He knew she would recognize him. He merely identified the men on either side of the picture. "Thomas Sutcliffe. Philip Henry. Philip you might remember from the incident with Eyghon. He died, and then you locked him in the book cage after he attacked you."

Buffy nodded. "The dead guy who turned to goo?"

"Yes," Giles answered softly, again drifting away from her and into the long ago past. "We were inseparable. The six Musketeers for lack of a better analogy."

"Six? I only count five."

He blinked up at her for a moment, seemingly disoriented by the shifts back and forth between present and past. "Randall. He must have taken this photo. He had majored in photography at Oxford. That's how I met him. He dropped out and joined up with us, but he never gave up the camera. He was always snapping pictures of the lot of us. I don't think I'd seen any of them before now. He would never show them to us." Giles touched his fingers to the images of each friend, even Ethan. "Out of all of us, there's just Ethan and I left now."

Buffy didn't want to rush him through what appeared to be some powerful emotions, but she needed answers. "Giles, what does this mean?" She flipped over the photo in his hands. He caught his breath and paled when he saw the words.

_Why didn't you come back for me_?

"Giles?"

He looked up at her, startled, and then tossed the photo onto the end table with finality. "Nothing you should be worrying about right now, Buffy." He laid his hand across her stomach to make her understand his meaning.

"But if something's—"

"No," he said firmly. "Let me handle this. Now where's Dawn?"

"I sent her to stay with the neighbors until I knew it was safe. I'll… I'll go get her." Buffy paused at the threshold. "Umm… There's some packages in the Jeep, if you want to bring them in. Umm… Now, don't flip, but there's actually a _lot_ of packages. But really, I like needed a whole new wardrobe."

He chuckled. "Buffy, we're not poor. I'm not going to begrudge you your maternity clothes or whatever else you needed."

"Yeah, okay, but there's really a _lot_. And some stuff for the baby. And I may have gone overboard with Christmas. But no peeking. Well, they're wrapped anyway, so you can't. But don't even try. Oh, did you get the tree?"

He shook his head. "You took the Jeep, Buffy. How would I have brought it home?"

"Aghh! We were supposed to switch cars today. I'm sorry. I forgot."

"It's alright, really. I did hesitate at the thought of you driving my car."

She scowled and tossed him the keys. "I'll be back with Dawn in a sec. And just for that, I'm not helping to carry anything in."

She shut the door behind her, trying to forget about the picture or the look on Giles' face when he read those words. They would have a nice, non-demony Christmas, and that was all there was to it.

* * *

Giles opened the hatch of the Jeep and was truly astonished at the number of bags. But the store was doing well, he had sublet his flat, the house was paid for, and Buffy and Dawn had money enough from the gallery and their mother's life insurance. If his slayer wanted to splurge, then he would let her.

Each trip in, he would pause at the photograph. One person not in the frame. But he had heard the voice. When he was closing up for the night, almost out the door, he had answered the phone.

Seven little words at the other end. "Why didn't you come back for me?"

Click. And then nothing more.

A voice he had thought dead ages ago. A voice he had frankly not thought about in four years, and before that nearly twenty. Randall's voice. His hand had shook when he replaced the receiver. With the clear reasoning of a Watcher, he had quickly dialed the operator, but the call couldn't be traced.

_Why didn't you come back for me_?

Why was this happening now of all times? And would he be forced to pay for his past sins for the rest of his life? Could he ever balance the scales? How many lives would he have to save before he would be redeemed?

He looked into his own eyes, into the image of the man he had once been. His younger self seemed to be mocking him, smiling _at_ him, as if to say, _You'll never be free of me. I'll always be inside of you._

He slipped the photograph into the desk drawer and out of sight.

* * *

Four days later, and it was Saturday. Buffy seemed to grow more each day. Every time she stepped onto the scale, she despaired of ever fitting into any of her leather pants again. Giles advised her not to weigh herself everyday, as it only seemed to depress her. On her petite frame, the curves of her pregnancy began to reveal themselves sooner than they might have on any other woman. Already, her stomach was sufficiently rounded enough to cause her classmates to wonder if she were pregnant, but not large enough that they would dare ask. It would be terribly embarrassing for them and insulting for Buffy if they were wrong. Thankfully, she had final exams on Monday and Tuesday, and then she was done.

She had also begun to feel the first flutterings of movement. She had been in the Magic Shop with Dawn when it first happened. She had screamed Giles' name, and he had knocked over a crystal ball, shattering it in his haste to reach her. He had thought something was wrong, but she had simply snatched his hand and placed it against her belly.

"What?" he had asked, clearly concerned.

"I can feel the baby moving," she had replied in awe. "Can't you feel it?"

"No," he answered quite honestly, but he was content to stand and watch Buffy enjoy the sensations of their child moving inside her.

The phone calls continued. Giles wouldn't tell her who it was or what they were saying, but she always knew when it was one of _those_ calls. He seemed to get more distraught after each one, and would then try and put on a brave face for her. The operator could never give him the number, and the calls never lasted long enough to be traced. But Buffy was beginning to worry for her watcher's mental health.

He had nightmares every night. Only now he wasn't mumbling about baby strollers and car seats. And a simple cuddle wasn't enough to quiet his fear. He would wake as she called his name, and kiss her softly, and tell her not to worry. But she did worry.

A photo was left on the door every day, five total now. Always left while no one was home. Different photos that Randall had taken: of the five friends in a diner booth, of Giles and Diedre dancing, of just Ethan and Giles, and finally a portrait of Giles dozing in their flat with a book spread over his chest and his boots propped up on chair. Of all the photos, that one reminded Buffy of her Watcher and not the Ripper persona revealed in the others.

Each photo came in a plain manila envelope inscribed with the letters, "R.G." And on the back of each photo were written the words, _Why didn't you come back for me_?

Giles put them each in the top desk drawer, but sometimes Buffy caught him looking at them when he thought she wasn't there.

Between the photos and the phone calls and the brief time they had to prepare for their new baby and the whole Christmas season besides, Buffy was afraid that Giles was nearing the end of his rope.

So four days after the first photograph arrived, Buffy collected her watcher for their second doctor's appointment, hoping this would lighten his mood. Dr. Michaels had said at their last visit that he would do an ultrasound the next time, and they could learn the sex of the baby if they wished. Buffy hoped, for Giles's sake, that it was a girl. A daughter would really brighten his mood.

Dr. Michaels strolled into the examining room, smiling up at Buffy and Giles. The clinic was mostly empty on a Saturday evening, but given their unique circumstances, that's how they preferred it. Dr. Jeffery Michaels was one of the best the Council had, and Giles seemed at ease with him, which of course went a long way towards alleviating any misgivings Buffy might have had. He had been granted hospital privileges at Sunnydale and scheduled Buffy for visits once a week the first two weeks, twice a week the third and fourth, and every other day the last week.

Today their doctor sat for a while and spoke with them, answering questions. Giles had written a few down on a piece of paper he kept beside The List. Buffy pretty much let Giles ask the questions; he had enough for both of them.

Then Dr. Michaels moved on to the ultrasound. He lifted her top and lowered her pants enough to reveal her growing abdomen, and then smeared on the gel. It was their first ultrasound since the trip to the ER. This time they would likely be able to make out features: hands, face, feet.

"You two decide if you want to know the sex?"

"Yes," Giles answered. He really wanted to know. Buffy hoped he wouldn't be too disappointed if it was a boy.

"Yes, you decided, or yes, you want to know?"

"Yes, please tell us," Giles clarified.

The doctor moved the doppler across her stomach, pointing out the different shadows across the screen. "There, the hands, the nose right there, feet." The doctor smiled. "Look, a boy."

Buffy glanced up quickly to see how Giles was taking the news. He seemed to expect her concern and bent to kiss her quickly on the lips. He smiled. "A boy is fine, Buffy. He'll still be a part of you, and that's all that matters."

She felt herself getting teary. Damn hormones. She pulled him down for a longer kiss, and then turned back to look at their son. Dr. Michaels was frowning, moving the instrument across her stomach at various angles.

"Buffy, can I get you to roll over on your side?"

She exchanged a panicked look with Giles and grabbed his hand. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. I'm just trying to get a better view."

Giles helped her scoot over on the bed onto her side. He was still holding her hand, and now stroking her hair as well. The doctor continued manipulating the ultrasound in solemn silence, and Watcher and Slayer could only wait with held breath.

"Hmm..." Michaels said, not seeming to be aware of their presence anymore. "A girl."

"You mean you were wrong?" Giles sounded hopeful. "It's a girl, not a boy."

"No," the doctor said with a mischievous grin. "I mean one of each."

"_Twins_?" the parents cried in disbelief.

Giles dropped down into the chair he was very fortunate to have waiting behind him. Buffy could feel his hand shaking in hers.

The doctor pointed to the screen again. "There's the second baby's head, hands. Almost positive it's a girl. And see, if I angle it just right, see right there, both hearts beating. They're almost beating in sync. Must be why we never heard the second heartbeat before."

Giles leaned forward against Buffy's shoulder. She gave his hand a little squeeze. Dr Michaels turned off the machine and wiped the gel from her tummy. "Why don't I give you both a minute to absorb this before we talk some more?"

Giles groaned. "Can you give us back our nine months?"

The doctor chuckled as he left their room.

"It's okay, Giles," Buffy whispered, rolling over on her back to look at him.

Her watcher sat up in his chair, his face stricken. He was shaking his head and trembling. "I can't... Two babies in five weeks... I'm not ready. It's too much. I can't... I just _can't_ do this."

Buffy felt her heart begin to race as she clutched at his jacket. "You're not leaving me like this, Giles? You _can't_ leave me!"

He met her panicked expression and blinked down at her. "No, no, Buffy, I wouldn't." He kissed away her fear. "Never," he assured her, and then leaned into her again, nuzzling against her neck, wrapping his arms around her. Buffy realized he was asking her to be the strong one for right now, and here she was, just as freaked out as he.

"I feel like everything keeps spiraling out of control," he whispered beside her ear. "I keep thinking we might have made a big mistake, but it's too late to take it back. I didn't think there was enough time for one, but now two. God, Buffy, you have to help me get through this."

"Shhh..." she murmured, stroking his hair softly with one hand. "Breathe, Giles, breathe. We'll be fine. We can do this. How many apocalypses has it been now? Seven? Twins will be a piece of cake. First thing we do is throw away The List. Whatever gets done before the babies arrive, gets done. Everything else we just let go of. If they have to sleep in laundry baskets the first week, then so be it. Babies don't really care about fancy cribs and strollers and if they have curtains or wallpaper in their room anyway. It'll all be okay, really it will. The world won't end if we bring home two babies instead of one." She tickled him behind the ear, and he jumped away from her in annoyance. Buffy wondered if he would ever forgive Dawn for letting her in on _that_ little secret. "You gonna be okay now?"

He nodded weakly and placed his hand against the bare skin of her rounded stomach. A son _and_ a daughter.

"Good," Buffy said, placing her hand over his. "Cause now it's _my_ turn to panic."

* * *

Willow was currently losing to Dawn. Perhaps that was because, in spite of her computing talents, she had never been one for the video games. Maybe it also didn't help that she had Xander behind her backseat game playing.

"No, no, Will, you got to turn it and put it on the blue… no over there by the yellow and the red… See, now you went and messed it up. You could have totally won."

"Shut up, Xander. And Dawn, quick, turn it off. I think Buffy and Giles are home." Dawn jumped up and collected the Nintendo, shoving it into a box and into the closet. Giles had become irritated with the thing very quickly and as soon as Buffy had been off her bedrest, had threatened to hide it from all of them, so Dawn had hid it first.

They quickly arranged themselves around the living room in an innocent tableau and waited for Slayer and Watcher to walk in. The two entered, not really noticing the friends around them, and made their way over to the couch, where they slowly sat in the space that Tara and Anya quickly vacated for them.

Willow took in the dazed and defeated expressions on their faces and came to the same conclusion that Xander voiced.

"A boy, huh? Tough break, Giles, but on the bright side you can teach him baseball or hockey or any number of other manly sports which you don't play. Umm… okay, but you could teach him fencing! Fencing is a kind of manly sport, except with the outfits and the… Okay, shutting up now. Willow, wanna help me out?"

Willow studied Buffy and Giles for a moment. They looked like their world had just collapsed in on them. "Hey, guys, is everything okay? I mean, it's a boy, right?"

"Yes, a boy," Giles murmured absently.

No one seemed sure what to say, so they all said nothing. A moment later, Buffy startled as if she'd just realized where she was. She added quietly, "A girl."

Now they were all confused. Willow stepped in to clarify the situation. "So which is it? A boy or a girl?"

"Both," Buffy and Giles answered together.

Anya frowned. "It's a boy _and_ a girl? That's some freaky kid you got growing in there, Buffy. I told you the nine weeks thing couldn't be good."

Giles spared her a look of irritation. "Twins, Anya, twins." And then, as if those words had drained all the energy out of him, he leaned back into the couch and rested his head against the top.

Willow jumped up. This was _huge_! "Omigod! Twins? This is _sooo_ cool!" The others joined in her excitement, Dawn climbing on the couch to give her sister a big hug, Xander patting Giles on the back, but Willow held back when she fully processed the expressions on the two parents' faces.

"Umm… guys?" She addressed the other Scoobies. "I was thinking maybe we could help out by making Giles and Buffy dinner tonight." She motioned them all out of the living room.

Anya bounded up, informing them all, "Oh, good. I have a new recipe that I want to try."

Giles managed to rouse himself out of his daze enough to ask Willow, "Please, for the sake of my unborn children, don't let Anya help with dinner." He laid his head back against the couch and added, "Anya, dear, you are a lousy cook."

Willow snagged Anya by the arm before she could protest and herded them all into the kitchen. If Giles could no longer find the grace to be tactful, then things really were bad.

"Okay, guys," Willow said as soon as they'd all assembled. "It's time for some Scoobie action. Giles and Buffy are about to have a nervous breakdown. And we are going to get them everything they want for Christmas."

Xander raised his hand meekly. "Don't mean to rain on your parade, Will, but with the wedding and Christmas and all, Anya and I are scraping the bottom of the barrel so to speak." He pulled her up next to his side, and she nodded her agreement.

Willow shook her head. "This isn't a money thing. It's a time thing. They don't have time to finish everything. Now there's ten days until Christmas, and between us we have five pairs of hands. Well, six if we can talk Spike into helping. Let's see how much we can all get done before then, okay?"

Dawn added helpfully, "If we need money, we can take it from the store. Giles won't mind if it's for the babies." She smiled. "Babies," she said again, as if still getting used to the idea.

Willow nodded. "Okay. But it'd be nice if we could make it a surprise."

"Giles never looks at the books," Anya added helpfully. "He won't notice if anything's missing."

"All right," Willow pronounced, now giving orders. "Dawn, you start making dinner. The rest of us are going to work on strategy. Anyone have a copy of The List?" Three hands shot up in the air, two of them were able to pull copies from their pockets. "Good. Now let's start at the top."

"How come I have to make dinner?" Dawn complained.

Willow scowled at her. Resolve face. "Would you rather I asked Anya to make it?"

"All right, all right. I'm going," Dawn grumbled.

While dinner cooked, The List was divided out into five chunks.

* * *

Two days after their ultrasound, Giles could feel movement. They were standing together at the sink, washing dishes, when Buffy grabbed his soapy hand and placed it against her stomach. He dropped the glass in his other hand, and it shattered. But he didn't even notice. She took his now free hand and placed it against the other side.

"You feel that? I think they're kicking each other. Must be missing, 'cause I'm the one they keep hitting."

"My God, Buffy," he whispered reverently. "It's incredible." Under one hand he could feel his son, under the other his daughter. It was the first time it felt truly real to him.

Dawn came jogging into the kitchen. "You guys okay? I heard something break." She had become almost as protective of her sister as Giles.

"Come here, Dawn," Giles said very softly, and when she had tiptoed around the broken glass to stand next to him, he pulled her between him and her sister and placed her hands beneath his on Buffy's stomach.

"Wow," Dawn murmured. She leaned back against Giles' chest, and the three of them just stayed there like that for several moments until the babies stopped moving beneath their hands.

When the kicking finally ended, Buffy leaned forward to kiss her sister and then up to kiss Giles. She turned back to finish drying her dishes, but Giles wrapped his arms around Dawn and kissed her on the crown of her hair. The two of them stood together in silent awe until Buffy scolded Giles for falling behind on the washing.

Three days before Christmas the Slayerettes sent them both on a romantic weekend getaway. Giles had protested at first, but by the time they convinced him, Buffy was already packed. A little bed and breakfast overlooking the ocean would be just the thing to ease the tension. In the end, he only agreed to two days away because it would be good for Buffy and good for the babies. But as he lay in bed, spooned up behind Buffy, his hand against her stomach, he had to admit that it was good for him too.

"Mmmm," she murmured contentedly, turning her head to face him. "Our first romantic getaway."

He kissed her softly on the cheek, and then nuzzled into her neck. "And our last for quite awhile, I'm afraid."

She frowned and tried to roll over to face him. Five months along with twins, she needed Giles' help to make it all the way. "Uh-uh," she insisted. "They have this marvelous new thing called a babysitter."

He chuckled and kissed her softly. He brushed her hair back from her face and asked with a sly grin, "Again?"

She laughed. "If I didn't know better, I'd say my little stevedore's stolen all my slayer stamina."

"Little?" he protested as he began kissing down her body, across her swollen breasts, over the mound where his son and daughter slept. He trailed his fingers across the curve of her womb, placing a kiss over each child and receiving an answering kick on one side. Maybe not sleeping after all. "Well, hello, little one. Which one are you, I wonder?"

Buffy pouted at him. "Forget about them for a minute. Mommy needs attention."

He smiled and continued down her naked body with fingers and lips. When he'd reached her feet, he drew them into his lap and massaged across arch and toes and heel and ankle. Buffy sighed and sank back into the pillows. "Ahh, there's the stuff. Sweet domestic bliss. I'll tell you when you can stop."

He massaged up her legs, and then rolled her on her side to knead out all the tension along her back. When he had sufficiently relaxed her, he pulled her into a lingering kiss, his tongue tracing out the contours of her mouth. And then with hands and mouth, he began to restore all of the tension he had so carefully removed.

* * *

Buffy and Giles were holding hands when they approached the front door of their home. The two days had indeed recharged them, and now Giles felt more equipped to deal with everything that lay on the other side of that door. Twins and phone calls and weddings and photos and long dead ghosts. He was perhaps a bit surprised to find all of their friends waiting on the other side of that door as well.

"Surprise!" They shouted.

Willow bounced forward and pulled them both into the house. "It's kind of a Christmas Eve baby shower."

Xander stepped forward in front of the redhead and presented Giles a piece of paper, handed over his other arm as a waiter might offer wine. In a bad French accent, he announced, "I present to you, Zee List."

Giles noticed that every item but two had been crossed off.

Buffy took The List from her friend and scanned down its length. "All that's left is baby names and… and a car. A car? Giles, why do we need a new car?"

"My car can hardly fit two baby seats and the three of us. Not comfortably at least."

"Awww," she said, squeezing his hand. "You're getting rid of the Beemer for me. That's so sweet."

"Not sweet, Buffy. Just practical."

But their friends were eager to show them the results of their efforts, and quickly pulled them into a tour. Xander pointed out the latches at the tops of the closet doors, just low enough for Buffy to reach, but far too high for any child. Willow showed them the sliding gates at the tops and bottoms of each staircase. Childproof latches on all the cupboards. Covers over all the electrical outlets. Two car seats waiting in the garage. Xander had put up shelving along the walls of the garage, and every potentially hazardous item had its place on them. A separate, locked shed beside the garage for the lawnmower and power tools.

They continued through the house. Xander showed them the sturdy bracketing he had installed on the bookcases and cabinets throughout the house, so that the children could practically climb them without bringing any furniture down on top of themselves. He demonstrated by scaling one bookcase himself. He jumped down when he noticed Giles frown.

The bathroom was childproofed as well. Even a lock on the toilet lid.

"That will be irritating," Giles commented.

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "But I made up for it with this." He opened the shower curtain with a flourish and a ta-da. Dual showerheads, one on each side. "I figured as long as I had my crew in here to add the shower hose for easier baby-bathing, well it wasn't much more work to add in a little bonus for mommy and daddy."

Giles blushed and looked away. "Yes, well… that was… thoughtful. You had your crew in here, Xander?"

He shrugged. "A few of the guys were willing to help out on their own time. It was fun. But that's why we needed you two out of the house."

"Come on," Dawn insisted, pulling on Buffy and Giles' hands. "You have to see the nursery."

The nursery was perhaps the most impressive accomplishment. New paint, new carpet, but aired out enough that Giles didn't need to worry about Buffy inhaling the fumes. The gang must have worked on this first. Two cribs sat on either side of the room, mobiles hanging over them. A changing table against one wall. A rich, mahogany rocking chair pulled up beneath the window. Buffy sat in this right away, appearing to admire the smooth sway as it rocked. She smiled.

A tall chest of drawers took the space between the closet and the door. Giles opened a few drawers and found them full. Boy's clothes on one side, girl's on the other.

"Oooh!" Willow called as she sidled up next to Giles and opened the bottom drawer. "I saw this and just couldn't resist!" She pulled out a little tweed suit, with tie and vest and everything. "See, little mini-Giles!"

He gave her a kind smile and squeezed her shoulder in affection. He moved on to look in the closet. It was full of games and stuffed animals. A double baby stroller was pulled into one corner. He turned around again, looking up at the wallpaper border running across the top of the wall and meeting the blue sky and cloud painted ceiling. Fluffy little white sheep danced across the wallpaper, matching the curtains that hung from the window.

Anya stepped up beside him. "I insisted on the sheep. Willow and Dawn wanted bunnies. But who would be mean enough to give a kid _those_ nightmares?"

Giles startled Anya with a warm embrace, patting her on the back. "It's perfect. It's all perfect. But expensive. I hope you didn't spend your own money."

"We took it from the store," Willow said reluctantly.

"Good," was Giles' only response.

Willow continued on in excitement. "But I think we got everything done on The List, and more besides. Look, even packed a suitcase for the hospital." She held it up to show him. "You're all set to bring the babies home today if you had to."

"No, no," Giles insisted. "A month will be soon enough."

Tara spoke up and informed him that, "Willow and I set up protection spells around the nursery and the house. If anyone tried anything, they'd get a pretty good jolt."

Giles gave the shy young witch a hug as well.

Buffy was still sitting in the rocking chair, and now she was crying. "You guys are all like the _best_."

* * *

Christmas Day started out perfect. It didn't quite end that way.

The Scoobies didn't begin their celebration until Willow and Xander had returned from obligatory appearances at their own family gatherings. Dawn could barely wait for them to return, reminding Buffy of childhood Christmases when her sister would wake her at the crack of dawn.

"Can I be Santa and hand out the presents?"

"Sure, Dawn, go ahead." Buffy settled back against Giles' chest, her back achy, her feet sore. Mostly she was just tired.

Giles slid his hand against her stomach, and then glanced down with a small smile. "Babies moving a lot?"

"All the time," she groaned. "I swear they take turns sleeping."

He bent and placed a kiss on her forehead. "That doesn't bode well for us after they're born."

Dawn handed out presents one by one. She got to an envelope that had no label. "Who's this for?"

Giles nodded to the engaged couple sitting next to the tree. "Xander and Anya. It's a Christmas and wedding present."

Buffy studied her watcher's face. He was holding out on her. He hadn't mentioned anything about a Christmas slash wedding present.

Anya took it gleefully. "Let me open it." She ripped open the envelope and frowned. "What's this? A couple pieces of paper with computer printing on it? I thought there would be money." She sounded disappointed.

But Xander's eyes had gone wide. He leaned over her shoulder and read the printing. He snatched the gift from her hands. "An, honey, these are airline tickets." He fumbled through the papers. "And a seven day cruise in the Caribbean. Oh. My. God. Giles, this is too much."

Buffy turned astonished eyes to her watcher, and he glanced away, seemingly embarrassed. "Nonsense," he assured Xander. "You two deserve a decent honeymoon. Think of it as Anya's Christmas bonus if you must. I've already given her the week off."

"I don't know what to say." Xander was still staring at the tickets. "Thank you."

Anya, however, had raced across the room to give Giles an enthusiastic hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Xander and I can have sex on the beach. It will be very romantic."

"Yes, well…" Giles stammered. "Just keep the details to yourselves and that will be thanks enough."

Anya returned to her fiancé's side. Buffy leaned over to give her lover a proud kiss on the other cheek. Sometimes he could still surprise her. "Dawn," she said. "Find Giles' present from me."

Dawn rummaged through the packages under the tree until she found a small wrapped box with Giles' name on it. "I think this is it."

Buffy watched in anticipation as he carefully undid the tape and wrapping. "For God's sake, just rip the damn stuff," she exclaimed as she helped him do just that. She looked at the box in puzzlement for a moment. She could have sworn they had given it to her in a jeweler's box. Oh, well, perhaps the mall giftwrappers had put it in another box. A jewelry box would have been a dead give away. "Open it already."

He lifted the lid, and the smile left his face. Buffy didn't recognize what it was, but it was definitely not his pocketwatch. Giles lifted a silver talisman from the box. It looked like a paperweight, forged in the shape of a half-closed eye. His hands were shaking. At the bottom of the box rested a piece of paper, asking him, _Why didn't you come back for me_?

"What is it?" Buffy demanded.

Giles replaced it in the box and closed the lid. "It's a charm we used to summon Eyghon." He rose and placed the item in the desk drawer with the photos.

"Ok, Giles, someone was in our house. They put that under our tree. We need to figure out what's going on."

"Let me handle this," he said firmly.

"I don't see you handling it. I see you ignoring it." She stood to face him. It might have been a little more intimidating if it hadn't taken her two tries to get off the couch. Would she ever get used to the shift in her center of gravity? "Giles, you have to let us help."

"No," he practically shouted, and then a little more calmly, "Buffy, please, don't think about it. I've been in contact with some friends in the Council, and I've been doing some research on my own. I'll take care of it. Now, let's not ruin everyone's day. Come on, then, there are still presents to open."

He settled on the couch, and drew her back down to sit next to him. He returned to his previous good cheer, but Buffy could see the fear beneath his brave face. She laid her head against his shoulder and prayed that nothing bad would happen before she could regain her slaying powers. Then she would be able to protect him again. And their children.

Presents were followed by a holiday meal. A houseful of happy friends and joking and laughter, and Buffy was almost able to put the strange occurrences out of her mind. Sometimes she would catch Giles sneaking a glance in the direction of the desk drawer, and she would remember again.

But it wasn't until after the table was cleared, the dishes were done, and Buffy had snuck out to the kitchen to snack on leftovers, that things really fell apart. Giles had followed her out of the living room, teasing her that eating for three was just a saying and not meant to be taken literally, even as he made her tea and cut up pickles for her leftover turkey sandwich. Before they could return to the movie playing in the living room, Dawn stopped them in the kitchen doorway, looking panicked.

"Buffy, you and Giles have to leave _now_. Out the back door and don't come back until later. Much, much later." She started pushing them each back towards the door.

"Dawn, what is this about?" Giles sounded both concerned and irritated.

But she addressed her answer to Buffy. "Dad and Susan are here."

"_What_?" She handed Giles her plate of food and took Dawn by the shoulders. "That's not funny."

Hank's voice confirmed her worst fears. "Buffy, honey, where are you?"

Oh, no, he was headed their way. Buffy stepped behind the kitchen island quickly, letting the counter shield her growing stomach. She pleaded with Giles, giving him her most panicked expression, "I haven't told him yet."

"What?" Giles joined her beside the island, setting the food down.

"Well there just didn't seem to be the right time. I tried calling a couple times, but… It just seemed too hard to do over the phone."

"Yes, of course," Giles replied sarcastically. "Telling your father while he was thousands of miles away and would have time to cool off before I would have to see him in a houseful of weapons would have been terribly difficult for you. I'm so very glad you decided on this method. Letting him just show up at our door was truly the wisest choice."

"I didn't _know_ he was coming for Christmas. I didn't think he would be back in the States until their wedding."

Giles shook his head ruefully. "Any bets on whether he uses a sword, a crossbow, or the gun?"

Any further argument was cut short when Hank entered the kitchen. "There you are."

Buffy gave him her best fake smile. She pressed herself as close to the counter as her stomach would allow. Maybe he wouldn't notice if she stayed here like this all night. Maybe she could do like they did on TV, when the actresses were pregnant and their characters were not. She could always be holding something in front of her stomach, a few well placed potted trees… Yeah, that could work.

Her father frowned when he saw Giles, but he focused his gaze instead on Buffy. "Come on, sweetheart, I haven't seen you in six months."

Five and a half months. Yeah, that was about right. How would she explain the over seven months at his wedding?

"What's the matter, honey?" Hank said, his arms outstretched. "Getting too old to give your dad a hug hello?"

Dawn stifled a giggle. "Yeah, she's getting too _big_ to give you a hug."

"Dawn!" Buffy gave her sister a warning glare. "Go back and finish your movie." She sighed and slipped her hand in Giles' behind the counter. He gave it a little squeeze. "Dad, maybe you should have a seat. We need to talk."

Next: Part 5: Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride


	5. Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride

ORIGINALLY POSTED: July 13, 2001  
TITLE: The Ticking Clock  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: PG  
SUMMARY: After my resurrection of Buffy in "Death Brings Clarity." Can Buffy and Giles live happily ever after? Or will the very nature of the Slayer tear them apart? Is it illness, a spell, or just the next level of her slayer powers?  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.  
SECOND DISCLAIMER: I'm not usually a big fan of songfic, so now I can't believe I wrote some. I deeply apologize. And here are the necessary credits: "Someone to Watch over me" by Gershwin, "She" by Elvis Costello, and "I Love You" by Sarah McLachlan.

* * *

Part 5: Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride

"Dad, maybe you should have a seat. We need to talk."

Hank frowned and approached the island in the middle of the kitchen. "Is something wrong? You know you can tell me anything, honey."

Buffy snuck a glance in Giles's direction, hoping to give herself the strength to go on. "It's about me and Giles." Hank's mood darkened noticeably, and Buffy plunged ahead. "He's not just living here because of Dawn's custody agreement. We're kind of living together, like in the same bed."

"What?" Hank took a step forward, and Buffy took a step back. She realized a second too late that she shouldn't have done that. She had stepped back from the protection of the island counter, and her father's eyes immediately fell on her pregnant stomach. She laid one hand across it, as if to protect her children from his anger.

Giles was the one who needed protecting, though, because a moment later and without warning, Hank decked him straight across the jaw, sending him stumbling back into the refrigerator. He caught himself on the handle, but the door opened when he tried to pull himself up.

"I _knew_ it," Hank snarled. "I _knew_ you weren't just trying to play father figure to my girls. I should have appealed the judge's decision. I should never have let you—"

"Dad!" Buffy stepped between her father and her lover. "Stop it! This isn't his fault."

Hank gave his daughter an uncomprehending look. "You mean he's not the father?"

"No," she said. "I mean yes. Yes, he is. But I was the one who fell in love with _him_. I started this relationship. There was no advantage-taking on his part."

"Is that what he's got you believing? Dear Lord, Buffy, you're only 20 years old, and he's got you pregnant already."

"Dad, it's complicated."

"Complicated, my ass!" Hank started pacing the floor. Buffy felt Giles' hand on her shoulder, and she turned to give him a sympathetic look. His other hand was massaging the right side of his jaw, and he gave her a wry I-told-you-so grin. Hank glared at her watcher and pointed an accusing finger. "This man is using you, Buffy. You're just a fling to satisfy his mid-life crisis. I've seen the red convertible in the driveway. I'm not an idiot. I know what's going on here." Hank stepped closer, right in Buffy's face. But it was Giles that received the full fury of his gaze. "The man's _my age_, for pity's sake. I just don't want to see you get hurt. He hasn't even married you, has he? I'm telling you, you're just a phase for him, Buffy, and when he's had his fun, he'll leave you."

"Why? Because that's what _you_ did?"

At first Buffy didn't know why her head had snapped to the side. Her father couldn't have hit her. He had _never_ hit her before. But when her cheek began to smart, she realized that he had indeed slapped her for her remark.

"How dare you speak to your father like that," he said coldly.

She felt Giles pull her behind him. She looked up with watery eyes, not because her father had hit her all that hard or because it hurt very much, but because she couldn't believe he had hit her at all. Giles' image wavered through her tears. Her watcher had placed himself between her and her father and spoke now with a deadly calm.

"Mr. Summers, I'm willing to forgive you striking me. It's probably what I would have done in your position. But if you _ever_ touch Buffy again, I will get a restraining order, and you will not come near your children or your grandchildren again. Do I make myself clear?"

Hank searched his daughter's eyes, but she quickly bent her head to rest against Giles' back.

Giles continued very calmly. "I suggest you go say goodnight to Dawn and leave this house. Don't come back until you can sit down and discuss this with us like a reasonable adult. And I expect you to have an apology prepared for your daughter when next we meet."

There was a long period of silence, and then Buffy felt herself drawn into Giles arms. She began to cry against his chest.

"Shhh... Your father's gone now." He smoothed the hair along the back of her head and down her neck. He showered kisses across her forehead and crown. "Everything will be alright. You'll see. Your father just needs some time to cool off. He'll come around."

"He hates me," she wailed.

"No, luv, he hates _me_. And that's only because he loves _you_ so much."

She pulled away and sniffled. Giles handed her his handkerchief to wipe her tears. As she did, her fingers found the mark her father had left on her cheek, and she sighed. "I feel like such a wuss. Here I am the Slayer; I've taken some pretty good beatings, even got kabobbed through the gut, and now I wimp out from a little slap. Your slayer's turned into a complete wussy wuss."

Giles chuckled and rubbed his own jaw. "You're not the Slayer at the moment, don't forget. And I must admit that my jaw's rather sore too."

Buffy started laughing then at the sight of the two of them nursing their wounds. She opened the freezer and tossed him a bag of frozen corn. She placed a bag of frozen peas against her own cheek. "So are you saying that after vampires and giant snakes and gods and way too many apocalypses, that my brave Watcher has been defeated by his girlfriend's father?"

Giles looked down guiltily. "Buffy, what your father said before... About me not marrying you..."

"Pish-tosh," she said, waving off his concerns. "My father's a big hypocrite. He lived with his secretary for like three years before he got around to marrying her. Don't pay him any mind." And then she gave him a deep and passionate kiss as if to prove that she didn't.

"Hey now," a voice called out from behind them, "give a fella a bit of warning 'fore you get all naked in the middle of the kitchen. Wouldn't want to walk in on _that_."

"Spike," Buffy grumbled, "when did you get here?"

He shrugged. "Not long. Said hello to your dad."

"Great, just great." Buffy sighed. That was just the thing to smooth things over with her dad, to have him find out the surprise witness that botched his custody case was now spending Christmas evening with them.

"He didn't seem to be much for the holiday spirit. 'Course five minutes with the two of you's likely to bring anyone's mood down. You over the parent panic attack yet? 'Cause let me tell you, that's getting _old_." He ambled past them and opened the fridge, grabbing a packet of blood. "Thanks, mate, knew I could count on good ole Rupe to keep me in blood and beer, seeing as you have me out doing the Slayer's job every night 'til she pops out those kids. And when will that be, by the way, 'cause from the look of you, Slayer, you're ready to burst."

"Spike," Giles said as if he were using the very last of his patience, "what are you doing here?"

"Dawn invited him," Buffy answered. "For Christmas."

"Ah, of course, because it wouldn't be Christmas without undead vampires coming for a visit."

Buffy pulled him down for a quick kiss. "Be nice." She frowned at their new guest. "That goes for you too, Spike."

And then Buffy rejoined her friends in the living room, intending to put all unpleasantness behind her and enjoy the remainder of the holiday.

* * *

New Year's Day and another doctor's appointment. Buffy was at the end of her second trimester, although with twins and her petite frame, she looked closer to the middle of her third. Giles was now getting to experience the full range of her mood swings, her constant complaining about backaches, stretch marks, and fatigue, her cravings that had him up twice now at three in the bloody morning to get cookie dough ice cream from the local 24-hour grocer. The second time he'd bought a gallon of the stuff, hoping to avoid similar trips, but the next day she'd sent him out of the Magic Box for something called peanut butter moose tracks. He was beginning to be grateful for their shortened timetable as well, because nine months of this would have been exhausting, and he wasn't even the one having the babies.

The clinic was again empty, being a holiday and all, which was again how they preferred it. A routine visit, except for the doctor setting them straight on the due date. Turned out twins generally came earlier, and Watcher and Slayer had a week or more cut off their timetable. They had perhaps another two weeks, and then they should be ready for the big event to happen at any time. Giles decided that he would have preferred nine months after all.

He left the clinic in a darker mood, after Buffy had teased him with images of her going into labor during her father's wedding. They stopped in the lobby, so Buffy could catch her breath and use the bathroom, two more things she complained about on a regular basis. Giles waited patiently, trying to push away the thought of Hank Summers and a full church all in an uproar as Buffy's water broke while standing at the altar.

They reached the car in silence. Giles opened the door for her and offered his hand to help her get in. But Buffy took a large step back and made a face. "Eww! Have you been smoking again, Giles?"

"Not since the ER, Buffy, I promise." Giles poked his head in the car. The top was up and the doors were locked. And yet, in the car ashtray, a cigar was still burning. Giles recognized the scent. He hadn't smelled it in twenty-five years, and yet it seemed like only yesterday. Randall hadn't liked the cigarettes that he and Ethan smoked. Randall had preferred this particular brand of cigar.

Giles reached in and extinguished the cigar, throwing it in the grass when he'd finished. He rolled the windows down and brought the top down. "Come on, Buffy, get in. You won't be able to smell it in a minute."

"Okay, this is really beginning to freak me out. Spill already! Does this have something to do with the phone calls and the photos and the mysterious Christmas present? You gotta let us help."

He held out his hand again to help her in the car and said firmly, "No. I said I would take care of this, and I will. I think I might be close to an answer, and maybe the solution."

"Good, 'cause the Caller ID didn't help with the phone calls. It only ever says 'unavailable.'" Buffy took his hand and maneuvered herself down into the passenger seat with a grunt. Giles smiled in spite of the mysterious cigar. His poor slayer wasn't being afforded the time most women got to accustom herself to her growing body. It made her more awkward than most.

They drove home. Most of the way Giles kept one hand on her stomach. She had placed it there when she realized one of the babies had hiccups. A few moments and the other side started in the same rhythm. They both had hiccups. By the time they'd pulled in the driveway, it had gone from cute to irritating, and Buffy pushed his hand away, shifting in her seat to try and relieve the sensation.

"Maybe you could give them a good scare," she said as he handed her out of the car.

He guided her to the door, one hand resting on her lower back, but when Giles slid the key into the lock, he realized the bolt was not engaged. Someone had been in their home. "Buffy, wait out here."

"Giles, maybe we should—"

"I said wait out here," he snapped. He pushed the door open and entered tentatively. Things looked pretty much untouched, as long as you didn't look at the walls. But across every wall he could see, someone had painted a symbol in red, over and over again. A symbol he would give anything to forget.

He undid the childproof latch on the closet and took a longsword, even though he knew in his heart that a sword would offer no protection against the one who had done this. He swept quietly through the house, checking closets and locks. He walked upstairs, the symbol filling his field of vision on both sides of the hallway. He entered first Dawn's room and then the nursery. Both untouched. Thank God for small mercies.

He met Buffy in the hallway. She was carrying a crossbow. "I thought I told you to wait outside."

"You did. I didn't." Her eyes hadn't moved from the vandalism painted across the walls. "This symbol. It's the one from your tattoo."

"Yes," he affirmed. "The mark of Eyghon."

She sighed. "At least it got rid of the babies' hiccups."

He moved past and paused at the threshold to their bedroom. "Please stay there, Buffy."

He turned the handle and stepped inside. Again, the mark of Eyghon painted several times on three walls. The fourth wall, the one behind their bed, bore another message. Directly above the headboard and in large letters from one corner to the other was written, _Why didn't you come back for me_?

Giles reached out with trembling fingertips and touched the ghostly message. His fingers came away wet. The paint hadn't had time to dry.

The phone rang. The caller ID flashed "unavailable." He knew before he even lifted the receiver. This time he was ready. This time he filled his voice with rage and screamed one word into the phone. "RANDALL!"

But all he heard on the other end was what he always heard.

* * *

"_RANDALL!"_

"Why didn't you come back for me?" Click. And then a second click as the man from the black Accord shut off the tape recorder and turned to his accomplice.

Ethan Rayne still felt chills every time he heard Randall's voice. This time he got double goosebumps when he also heard Giles scream the name they had been tormenting him with.

"The Boss should be here any minute," Sulla reminded him.

Sulla. It was the only name Ethan knew the man by. No last name. Just Sulla.

On meeting, he had been informed that Lucius Cornelius Sulla had been the lowest of Roman citizens, and through cunning, ruthlessness, and murder, he had earned the highest honor of the Roman army and raised himself to Rome's highest office. As consul, he had ruled with an iron fist. Men had lived and died at his word.

Great, Ethan had thought, a history lesson.

Ethan imagined that the man's real name was Morton or Humphrey or Reginald the Third or some other name that no self-respecting bad ass would use. Maybe even Rupert.

God, Ripper had hated it when anyone called him that. Once, they'd all been pretty drunk, and Philip had been goading Ripper into a temper. The final straw had been the use of his real name. When some other customers got in the middle, it had turned into a full fledged bar fight, fists and chairs and glasses flying. A large man with a baldhead and a tattoo of a skull across his scalp had thought he could best dear old Ripper in a knife fight. Didn't bother him much that Ripper wasn't carrying a knife at the time.

In the end, the guy had landed a blow on Ripper, gave him the long scar he now carried across his forehead, but Ripper had done far more damage with his fists. He had snapped the wrist holding the knife, and then the arm as well for good measure. The fool had to be taken out by ambulance after Ripper was finished with him, and Ripper himself wouldn't even go in for stitches.

Ethan wondered if Sulla would be able to hold his own against Ripper. Not Rupert Giles, the librarian, the Watcher, but Ripper, the man that Ethan remembered.

"When the Boss gets here," Sulla informed him, "you keep your trap shut. Let me do the talking."

"Yes, of course," Ethan said with some amount of disdain. "From what I've seen talking is definitely your strong suit." The man had barely said more than three sentences to him in the three weeks they'd been reluctant partners.

"Look, if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be here." Sulla spun in his chair, facing the monitors once again. Surveillance cameras gave them a view of each door and a couple of interior shots of the house as well. Giles was still surveying the damage they had done with a cold fury.

"Yes," Ethan agreed, "if it were up to me, I wouldn't be here either. But you have to admit it, mate, you need me." Ethan was feeling some amount of pride over his handiwork, and he wanted the credit. After all, who had listened to hours of Randall's tape recorded letters home to his family and found the perfect line which, when taken out of context, could elicit the desired effect in his old friend? Who had been able to dredge up after nearly twenty-five years the skills necessary to forge Randall's penmanship on each photo and envelope? Who had fed Sulla all the dirty details for their little game: the mark of Eyghon, the talisman for summoning him, and even the brand of cigar that Randall smoked for God's sake?

Sulla needed him, and by God, he was going to admit to it. Ethan pressed his point. "You would have never gotten this far with him without me. You could have set yourself up as some dark stalker, but it's so much more frightening this way. I've made it personal. You could have had some fun with the stuff the Boss gave you, but he would have thought it was blackmail or a cruel prank. I've got him actually believing that it's Randall."

Sulla didn't seem to be paying attention to him, and Ethan sat down on the edge of the hotel bed dejectedly, flipping on the TV. He gave one last attempt at convincing his cohort that he was indispensable. "You would have never gotten past the two witches' protection spells without me. Ripper would have more than likely come home to find you unconscious on his front step. And if not, it would have at least raised suspicion when they found their wards broached. No, without me this whole operation would have been a dismal failure. And without my magic, you would have never defused the witches' wards or been able to reset them."

Sulla gave no response, just continued watching the surveillance feed as they waited for their Boss.

* * *

Buffy made Giles sit on the bed. She gently lowered herself down to sit next to him. "Okay, I've been patient, but now it's time to share. What's going on?"

He had told her the story of Eyghon before, back in high school, back when the demon had returned to Sunnydale to finish what it had started. He had confessed to her his rebellious past, revealed for her how he had turned to dark magic and sorcery to escape his destiny as a watcher. She knew about how they had gotten off on the euphoric high of being possessed by Eyghon, taking turns allowing the demon to come into them in their sleep as the others stood guard with the proper precautions and protections. Willow had found mention of people using possession for bacchanals and orgies, but Buffy really didn't want to think about that.

With shame and regret, he had also told her the end of the story: how his friend Randall had lost control during one such encounter and had paid for their fun with his life. And then for twenty years they had each thought themselves free of Eyghon, until the demon had returned to claim them one by one, drawn like a homing signal to the mark they each bore, tattooed in the bend of one elbow.

Buffy had always thought that was the whole story. Lately she had begun to wonder if there wasn't more. She suspected that now she was about to hear the something that he had left out.

"Giles, please," she asked again. "Who painted over our walls? Who's been doing this to you?"

He dropped his head into his hands and answered very softly. "It's Randall. The photos, the phone calls, this, all of it. It's Randall, and he's haunting me."

Buffy shook her head. "I don't know, Giles. This seems more like a living stalker guy. Are you sure that Randall's not _alive_, and doing this to you?"

"I saw him die, Buffy. I killed him with my own hands."

Buffy placed her hand beneath his chin and made him look at her. Would her watcher never stop carrying the blame for everything on his shoulders? "Look, I know you feel responsible for what happened, but things just got out of control. It was an accident. You have to stop blaming yourself."

Giles took her hand and kissed it before enfolding it with his own. His head remain bowed, and he wouldn't meet her eyes. "No, I mean, after we couldn't exorcise the demon from Randall… He was… He was going to kill Diedre… I had to… We had tried everything we knew to save Randall, but we couldn't. There was nothing left but to save Diedre. In the end… It was my sword, my _hand_, that dealt the deathblow. I killed the demon that had taken control, and Randall with him. He dissolved, like Philip in the library."

"Oh," she said quietly.

"This could only be Randall. His voice on the phone. The photographs that he took. All of this. He's haunting me. And maybe I deserve it."

Buffy shifted sideways on the bed and made him face her. She took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly. "Giles, stop it. No one deserves this, least of all you." But Buffy knew in her heart that he would never stop blaming himself, just as he had blamed himself for Jenny's involvement with Eyghon, for Jenny's death, probably for Buffy's running away, and for her death as well. She had a sudden thought. "Could it be Ethan?"

Giles shook his head. "This isn't Ethan's style. He regrets what happened to Randall as much as I do. He would never torment me with it. Besides, he's still in that government facility in Nevada."

Buffy accepted Giles' reasoning. "So you think this is Randall's ghost? That we can somehow exorcise him?"

Giles nodded.

"What did he mean then… The photos, the phone calls, our bedroom wall… What did he mean by '_Why didn't you come back for me_?'"

Giles glanced up at the message above their headboard. "I don't know, Buffy. I truly don't. Maybe there was something we missed, something we could have tried. Maybe we could have somehow gone back for him, somehow reached him past Eyghon. In the end, I was the one who gave up trying… I was the one who didn't go back for him… I was the one who killed him."

Buffy pushed herself off the bed, and Giles automatically offered out his hand to steady her balance. He really was so sweet to her, with all the little things he had done in the last few weeks: the back massages, the loving words, the midnight runs for ice cream, the unending patience with her mood swings and crabbiness. Buffy vowed that whatever was tormenting her beloved watcher would end, one way or another.

"So," she said, "sounds like the first thing we try is an exorcism. If that doesn't work, we'll move on to possible living scum."

And she picked up the phone to gather the Scoobies together for said exorcism.

* * *

Ethan Rayne studied his Boss. He didn't really want to be working for the guy, but hey, he'd gotten an offer he couldn't refuse.

Everett Longsworth walked with a limp and a cane. Ethan judged the man to be in his late sixties, possibly early seventies. Mr. Longsworth (Ethan intended to show the man the proper respect) still owned a full head of white hair and the kind of classic good looks that only deepened with age and made him seem mature rather than old. Ethan imagined the man must have had the ladies lined up for him when he was young.

"Are we ready for the grand finale?" Mr. Longsworth asked Sulla. Their Boss didn't address Ethan. Ethan Rayne was only there because they needed him to accomplish the plan. Longsworth had made it plain that if he'd had his druthers, Ethan would be right there beside Giles. As it was, Ethan had received his freedom from the government facility in Nevada and his life had been spared, as Giles' would not. An equitable trade for his small part in this affair, Ethan thought. He still had some lingering affection for his old pal, would be sorry to see him fall to such a fate. But as Ethan had told Buffy once, he liked himself much, much more.

"Ready to go," Sulla answered. "Just give the word."

"Good." Mr. Longsworth smiled and leaned in to watch his prey on the monitors. Then a puzzled frown crossed his face. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to an open doorway in the picture frame. "Is that a crib?"

Sulla enlarged the image. "Yeah, your man and his girlfriend are having a baby. She looks to be getting pretty big."

Mr. Longsworth smiled and touched the image of the crib on the monitor. "You say he's planning to exorcise Randall's spirit?" Sulla nodded. "Let him. We'll stop with our games for the time being. Let them think they've won. Let them become happy and complacent once more. And then at the moment of his greatest joy, I will take everything from him."

Buffy walked into the frame of the video. Longsworth smiled when he saw the curve of her belly. One finger traced it reverently. "Find out when she's due. And after that, we'll have a lot of work to finish if we want to be ready. Yes, I'm liking this plan much better."

Ethan wanted to say something, but he didn't dare. He had never agreed to this. Buffy and her baby were innocents in this. As much as he'd been willing to betray an old friend, the thought of harming a child left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had standards. And then Ethan imagined what Longsworth would do if he refused anything that was asked of him. Ethan Rayne decided that standards could sometimes be lowered.

* * *

Willow and Tara performed the exorcism that very same day. Giles assisted, but he was adamant that Buffy be out of the house, so she went to stay with Xander and Anya for the evening. When he thought it was safe, she was allowed back. It seemed to work, because they had no more disturbances that day or the next.

Thursday, Xander called in sick to his job along with one of his construction buddies. Everyone would think they were hungover from his bachelor party the night before anyway. While Buffy and Giles were at the Magic Box, he and his buddy, along with Dawn, Tara, and Willow, repainted over all the walls that had been desecrated with the mark of Eyghon.

The women mostly pointed out the spots the two men had missed, and fetched them lemonade. Although Willow tried to help with a little spell, in the end her magicked paint brush made a mess across the dining room floor. Xander needed to get paint remover and reseal the finish, and Willow was relegated to lemonade duty with the others. Tara, on the other hand, showed a flair for the fine details of painting along the edges and corners, and she was promoted to working with the men. Dawn complained that she wanted to paint too, but she spilled on the newly resealed dining room floor as well, and after Xander fixed the floor again he sent her to the kitchen with Willow.

So Willow and Dawn made the crew lunch, grumbling about men and their intolerance for small accidents.

When the work was done, and the walls looked better than new, and the tarps pulled off the furniture and edges of the floors, the group assembled at the magic shop to surprise the expectant parents with news of what they'd done. Of course, it meant Buffy would have to stay at a hotel overnight until the fumes could air out. She smiled at Giles in a way that made him blush as she suggested that she wouldn't mind as long as Willow and Tara could take Dawn.

"Ewww," Dawn commented. "Aren't you like too huge for that stuff?"

"Oh no," Anya informed Buffy's sister. "Pregnant women are perfectly able to have sexual relations right up until the baby's born."

The group turned and looked at the ex-demon, but her fiancé spoke up quickly. "An, honey, you would know this because…?"

She smiled brightly. "Giles has all those kinds of books lying around, and sometimes I read them on my breaks." Xander's eyes grew round, and she patted him on the chest. "Breathe, Xander, breathe. I'm not having a baby. But with our imminent marriage, it is the next logical step. I thought I should begin researching for when we decide to procreate."

Xander began coughing, and then turned to take her by the shoulders. "How 'bout a house, Anya? A house would be the next logical step. Then maybe a puppy. Babies a long, _long_ time from now. We're like _way_ too young." He looked towards Buffy with a panicked expression. "Not that you're too young, Buff. I mean you're like our age, but special circumstances, and you got Giles, and… Willow, help."

Buffy smiled tolerantly. "It's okay. Just don't say that kind of stuff in front of my dad. He's liable to think he has people on his side."

In the end, Hank did know when he was outnumbered. He showed up Friday morning, fiancé in tow, to apologize to Buffy and listen to her side of the story. He was frankly quite surprised to see how much she'd grown in just the week and a half since Christmas, but seemed to buy the explanation of twins. He sat patiently and quietly through Buffy's tale of her mysterious medical condition, which the doctors had attributed to the five weeks she'd spent in a coma. The looks he gave to Giles were full of nothing but contempt, and it was obvious that Hank didn't believe this was her one shot to have a baby. They offered the number of their OB to back up their story, but whether he called was another matter.

The due date nearly blew their whole story. The twins could come anytime after Hank's wedding, although hopefully not during, which meant any idiot could count back nine months. Hank was not an idiot, and nine months made Buffy pregnant _before_ her coma. They convinced him that she would only be seven months along, since twins came early. Hank didn't know enough about pregnancy to question their figures, but even still that put conception awfully close to the time she had returned and he had been in town fighting for custody of Dawn. Hank continued to glower at Giles at every opportunity, knowing the man had wasted no time in taking advantage of Buffy's vulnerability.

Susan, however, seemed thrilled about the new babies, asking Buffy about names and touching her stomach when they kicked. She tried to get her fiancé to show the same enthusiasm, which won her some points in Giles' book, but Hank couldn't bring himself to demonstrate any pleasure at the thought of becoming a grandfather. She gave up after a little bit and asked Buffy to show her the nursery. As they walked up the stairs, Susan told her future stepdaughter that she hoped the twins would come before she and Hank had to return to Spain the week after their wedding. It would be such a shame if they didn't get to see them while they were still small.

That left just Giles and Hank standing awkwardly together in the living room.

"So the wedding's a week from tomorrow?" Giles attempted to ease the tension with lame small talk. "I know Buffy's looking forward to it."

"So you've saddled my daughter with twins?" Hank contributed his own lame small talk. "That must make you proud." Giles sighed, but Hank continued on without letting him speak. "Let's just get this straight. I don't like you. I frankly think you've ruined my daughter's life. Nearly seven months and neither one of you have had the guts to call and tell me about it. And in all that time, you haven't even had the decency to marry her. Now maybe Buffy doesn't care about that. But you and I come from a different generation, the _same_ generation in fact, but that's a whole different conversation. And the way I was raised, a man doesn't just knock up his girlfriend and run off."

Giles pulled off his glasses in a quick gesture and began polishing them in frustration. "No, sir, you had the decency to wait fifteen years before you ran out on your family." Before Hank could respond to that, Giles slipped his glasses back on and vented all the things he had wanted to say, but couldn't in front of Dawn or Buffy. "Mr. Summers, I have no intention of leaving Buffy. I will be here as long as she and Dawn and the twins need me. I know that you are the girls' father, and for their sakes I have been trying. But over the years, I have seen you do nothing but neglect them. There were times when I wondered if they even had a father. So don't you dare lecture me on parental responsibility.

"Now the girls want you in their life, and Buffy wants you in our children's lives, and that means the two of us will have to get along. All I want is a little civility, and I don't think that's too much to ask for. Especially right now when Buffy doesn't need any extra stress in her life. Do you think you could pretend not to hate me?"

Hank crossed his arms and looked away. "I still think she's too young. And I'm not happy about it. But for Buffy's sake, I will make an effort to be supportive."

Giles nodded. "Thank you."

At that moment their women returned, and Hank and Susan bid adieu. Hank gave his daughter a hug and even brought himself to lay a hand on her stomach as they pulled apart. He smiled sadly. "Congratulations, Buffy. See you at the wedding next week."

When the door closed, Buffy smiled up at her watcher. "See, that didn't go so bad."

"No, it didn't," he agreed.

* * *

Giles opened his gold pocketwatch. Buffy smiled to know that he carried it with him always. She touched her fingers across the engraved letters. Daddy.

He frowned down at her. "Buffy, will you please concentrate. This is important. I'm supposed to be timing you."

She had imagined him timing her patrols and slaying and training. She never pictured sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest, surrounded by twenty other pregnant couples while he timed her fake contractions and encouraged her to breathe. She giggled.

"Yes," he said. "I'm sure you find Lamaze very amusing at the moment, but the time may come when you might wish you'd paid attention. Not to mention that our instructor is becoming very irritated by your snide remarks."

She tipped her head backwards against his chest to look up and upside down at him. "Can't you do the homework, Giles, and you know, give me like the Cliff notes version? Besides, aren't you supposed to be my coach? Isn't paying attention supposed to be _your_ job?"

The Lamaze instructor passed by them, offering a scolding glare.

"Okay, okay," Buffy said under her breath. "I'm panting. I'm blowing. Happy now?"

The instructor, a short plump brunette woman, stepped up to the front of the classroom. Buffy knew that Giles thought they should be there, but frankly she didn't feel like she had that much in common with the couples around her. Granted, she was pregnant, but beyond that… No one else was having twins off a two-month pregnancy and returning to a livelihood of nightly near death hi-jinks after giving birth. Plus, they all looked at her and Giles like there was something wrong with… well… her and Giles. When the lady pulled their registration, she mistook him for Buffy's father. A lot of people seemed to do that, and it was really beginning to tick her off. She really thought they could do without the Lamaze. She was the Slayer, after all. How bad could it be compared to nightly thrashings? She'd even been stabbed in the gut with her own stake once and hadn't needed to go to the hospital.

"Okay, students," the instructor gathered everyone's attention. "I hope you've all enjoyed our class today. Now, before we send you home, we're going to finish with a video, so you can see how everything you've learned fits together."

The lights dimmed. The video started. Fairly quickly Buffy found herself hoping that Giles had paid really good attention in class.

They walked to the car in silence, and he helped her into her seat, but when he moved to start the ignition, she stopped him.

"I don't think I thought this baby thing all the way through, Giles. I think maybe I'd like to change my mind. I can still change my mind, right?"

He smiled kindly and squeezed her hand to offer some amount of courage. "A little late for that, Buffy. You'll be fine. Don't worry. You can do this."

She clutched his hand and turned wide eyes in his direction. "You were watching the same video I was, weren't you? I can't do _that_."

He ran his thumb across the back of her hand soothingly and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. "You can do this, Buffy. Women do it all the time." He took back his hand and started the engine. "Besides, maybe you'll be lucky. A nine-month pregnancy shortened to about eight weeks. Maybe your labor will be similarly reduced."

"Like five minutes?" Buffy asked hopefully.

Giles paled, and his hand missed the gearshift. He met her gaze again, and this time it was his green eyes that held fear. "M-m-maybe I should research emergency delivery procedures," he stammered. "Just in case."

Then they drove home to pick up Dawn for Xander and Anya's rehearsal dinner.

* * *

It rarely rained in Sunnydale. Hence the name. When it did rain, it never lasted. The day of Xander and Anya's wedding, it poured all day long. The bride was oddly pleased by this, knowing that rain on one's wedding day was believed to be a portent of good luck. She would have been more concerned by a beautiful cloudless day with little bunnies hopping around in the sunshine.

She waited in the side room of the church with her bridesmaids, Buffy and Tara, and her flower girl. Dawn had complained at first about being too old to be a flower girl, but she got to wear the same dress anyway, and Anya didn't know any small children to ask. She didn't want to wait for Buffy's twins to be old enough, and Anya really wanted a flower girl.

The bridesmaids' dresses were orange. Bright _orange_ orange. Buffy hadn't been exaggerating when she told Giles that she would look like a giant pumpkin. The cut would have perhaps been flattering in any other color, on Dawn and Tara at least. Nothing would have really flattered Buffy's round figure at the moment.

Anya herself looked radiant in white. She had chosen a traditional dress with a full skirt and a long train. It was made of simple satin, tasteful beading decorating the low neckline and trailing into the long sleeves. She spun again in front of the mirror and smiled.

It was when she spun that Tara got a glimpse of what was under the dress. "Anya," she asked, "why are you wearing blue socks?"

The ex-demon lifted the hem and looked down. "They're so my feet won't get cold. I've heard that's a problem for some brides. And they also fit two of the four criteria for good luck."

"Something blue and…?" Dawn prompted.

"Something old?" Buffy joked.

"No," Anya replied in irritation. "They're new. They're something new. The something old is me. I'm over eleven hundred and twenty years old. I figure that's old enough. And the something borrowed… Well, I'll give them back to you, Buffy, after the honeymoon."

"Anya?" Buffy was growing suspicious.

Anya smiled and bent over for her white pearl handbag. She pulled a pair of handcuffs from inside.

Buffy blushed and stuffed them back in Anya's purse, hopefully before Dawn could see them. "Where did you find these, and how did you know I had them?"

Anya shrugged. "At the mall before Thanksgiving. You made a joke to Xander about them. And the nightstand was the logical place to look. I would have put them back, probably before you even noticed they were gone."

Buffy cast an eye in her sister's direction. Dawn was smothering a giggle behind her hand. "You know they don't have a key," the slayer whispered.

The bride smiled. "Then they'll be even more fun."

Moments later the organist began to play, and Anya headed for the aisle and for the love of her life.

* * *

Xander was pacing. Poor boy was nervous.

"So you didn't see any trolls or ogres or other ex-boyfriends of the demony persuasion?"

"No, Xander," Giles assured him for the hundredth time. "I had a look just a minute ago. Only friends and family."

"Yeah well, if they're _my_ family..." Xander tilted his hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. "Kind of fit in that gray area. Some days I wonder if they've been living near the Hellmouth too long, you know what I mean?" He clapped his older friend on the shoulder enthusiastically. "I'm counting on you, G-man. Now that Buffy's on temporary slayer mommy leave, you're my man. When the minister gets to the part asking if anyone has cause why these two should not be joined... You see trolls, you see demons, you have my permission to slay them."

Giles chuckled. "Your faith in me is humbling. I will endeavor to keep uninvited guests from ruining your big day. But really, Xander, everything's going to be fine."

"Right. Fine. No sweat." He didn't seem to be convincing himself.

"What about me?" Willow asked. She was waiting with the men and dressed in the woman's equivalent of a tux. Long black satin lines and coat tails suited her slender frame. Giles thought she looked quite elegant and had complimented her. "Me, your _best_ man. Best woman, or person, or whatever. Anyway, I could help out with a little magic."

Xander smiled and pulled her in for a quick kiss on the forehead. "Sure, Will. And remind me again whose spell unleashed Anya's ex-boyfriend the troll?"

"Well, that wasn't my fault," Willow countered. "If Anya hadn't… Okay, shutting up now. Giles has demon duty. Got it."

The minister entered a moment later to inform them he was ready to start the service.

Giles followed Willow out the side door to the altar, and they both stood beside Xander as the organist played the wedding processional. Dawn came down the aisle first, hanging on the arm of Xander's little cousin Michael, who kept trying to wriggle his arm away from her. She dropped rose petals, and he held proudly the pillow bearing the rings. The scent of roses still made Giles slightly nauseous, even after all these years. But he pushed away his thoughts of Jenny as he watched the bridesmaids glide down the aisle. First Tara, giving Willow a private little smile and wink, and then Buffy, who did the same for him.

Then the traditional bridal march began. Anya had never looked more lovely or more happy as she reached Xander's side. They faced the minister and exchanged vows, but their eyes never left each other. Buffy cried through the whole service, which thankfully for her poor back and feet lasted a brief twenty minutes.

After the bride and groom kissed for several long moments, the church burst into applause and the wedding recessional echoed into its arches. Dawn and Michael exited first, followed by the happy couple. Willow stepped up to take Tara's arm, and they left next. Buffy slid her arm into the crook of Giles', and they left last, her watcher passing her his handkerchief to dry her tears.

They stood in the reception line, shaking hands as they were introduced to various members of Xander's extended family and their friends. Xander's construction buddies each clapped him enthusiastically on the back as they offered their heartfelt congratulations. Giles thanked them all as they passed for their help with the nursery and for painting over the vandalism across the walls. He realized a moment too late that he had made a crucial slip when one of the men teased Xander for it.

"I knew you weren't sick!"

Xander just shrugged and smiled.

The guests numbered between fifty and seventy-five, a nice small wedding, and all were from the groom's side. A moment later, though, and the bride had her own guest.

A large boom echoed through the church lobby, followed by a pillar of smoke. From the smoke stepped a large cloaked man with pointed ears, goat-like features, and horns protruding from his bald head.

"D'Hoffryn!" Anya exclaimed.

"Anyanka," he addressed her with a sly smile as he stroked his long white beard.

Giles attempted to step between them, not really sure what he would do without any weapon, but Buffy pulled him back.

D'Hoffryn approached the bride and groom, his hands outstretched towards Anya. "Don't worry. I haven't come to spoil your little celebration. I'm only here to offer my congratulations. After eleven hundred years in my service, you feel almost like a daughter to me, Anyanka."

Some of the other guests were discussing the strange new arrival in loud whispers. Buffy informed them confidently, "He's one of Xander's friends. From a Babylon 5 convention. Some kind of weird role playing thing they're doing now, I think." She dismissed the whole thing with a wave and tried to guide the crowd some distance from the scene. Giles stayed with the wedding party, ready to offer whatever assistance they needed of him.

But there seemed to be little cause for concern. D'Hoffryn only held Anya's hands against his chest and brushed back one blond lock with his scaled hand. "You look very happy."

Anya nodded. "I am."

"Good," he responded, as he drew something from inside his cloak. "It would appear that making you mortal was a gift rather than a punishment. Perhaps the best wedding gift I could give you. But still, I feel I would be remiss if I didn't honor your union with something more tangible."

He handed her a jeweled necklace covered in rubies and diamonds. Anya gasped as she took it. "It's beautiful."

"It's magic," he informed her. "Wear it, and your young man will… Well, he will be physically unable to commit adultery against you." Xander coughed violently, and D'Hoffryn grinned as he continued. "It would be a shame for you to fall to the same fate as so many of the scorned women you have visited through the centuries."

Anya ran her fingers across the glittering gems, but then she handed it back to her former boss. "It is a thoughtful gift, but I don't want it. I trust Xander completely. I don't need magic to know that we will love each other forever."

Xander melted at this, and turned his bride's head to claim her in a passionate kiss. Anya leaned into him and smiled back at D'Hoffryn. "See?"

The demon nodded and slowly stepped back towards the scorching hole in the carpeting that marked the place from which he had arrived. "Then I wish you a long and happy mortal life, Anyanka." With a puff of smoke, he disappeared just as he arrived.

"That was so cool!" one of Xander's construction buddies commented. "Is he going to be doing more magic tricks at the reception?"

Xander shook his head. "No, he has his own gig to go to."

The wedding party and guests adjourned to the Bronze for the reception. They had rented the club for the evening and hired a DJ who came equipped with karaoke. Giles groaned when Buffy pointed it out to him. An evening of drunken amateur singers was just the thing if you wanted a headache.

Watcher and Slayer curled up in a corner booth with their dinner, Giles massaging Buffy's bare feet with one hand as he ate with the other.

She sighed. "Heels are just not meant for pregnant women. And neither is standing. Think dad will let me bring a chair?"

Giles smiled as he fed Buffy a french fry.

The Bronze was decorated in orange and green, the colors Anya had chosen for her wedding. They had tried to tell her that those were Halloween colors, but she liked Halloween and she liked orange and green. So her bridesmaids wore orange, the cake had green frosting, and the whole place was covered in streamers of both colors.

The evening passed with the usual wedding events. The bride and groom had their first dance, followed by a dance for the entire wedding party, which Buffy and Giles quickly realized was their first dance _ever_. Buffy informed him he looked incredible in a tux, even better than prom, because this time he was hers. She also warned him that any snide remarks about his arms not fitting all the way around her, and he could expect to be sleeping on the couch. He chuckled as he took her in his arms for the slow song, pulling her close, and saying, "See, perfect fit," after he easily wrapped his arms around her. They swayed to the music for the length of the song, dancing cheek to cheek until a fast song came on, and Giles quickly exited the floor.

Buffy pouted at him, but joined in with Willow and Tara and all the others. She moved a bit awkwardly with the weight of twins in front of her, but she seemed to be enjoying herself.

The DJ cleared the floor again for the groom to dance with his mother. The boy looked rather uncomfortable, and Giles remembered that the two were not always on the best of terms. In fact, Giles doubted that anyone out of their group besides Willow and Anya had even met her before. The song ended, and the DJ called for the father/daughter dance for the bride. Giles thought that was rather odd, considering Anya had no mortal father. But then she held her hand out to him, and he was moved beyond words.

"I hope this okay," she said to him as they danced. "I don't remember what it was like to have a father when I was mortal, before I was a vengeance demon. But I think if I did remember, it would feel a lot like you do."

Giles kissed her tenderly on the cheek and allowed her to settle against his chest as they swayed in time to the music. "I'm honored, Anya. And I'm so very happy for you and Xander."

Anya closed her eyes and sighed against his chest. "After Buffy died, you talked to me about death and mortality. You told me about different religions and their beliefs about the afterlife. And you listened to me when I was scared and when I was sad. I never thanked you for that. I never told you that it helped, that it made me less scared."

Giles simply patted her back and rested his head against the top of hers. The song ended, and he returned to a teary Buffy, who immediately pulled herself into his arms and began sobbing. He again offered her his handkerchief.

The couple cut the cake, Anya dutifully smearing her bite across Xander's face. They had the toasts, and the obligatory drunk relation that everyone tried to ignore. They tossed the bouquet and the garter to a sea of single guests. Anya tossed the bouquet in Buffy's direction, and was extremely irritated when one of Xander's cousins reached up and caught it instead.

"Hey, that's not fair. I want to do it over. Buffy was supposed to catch it."

But Buffy bowed out, saying she didn't care that much about the bouquet anyway.

Spike showed up after he'd finished patrol. He sprawled out in a dark corner with a beer, despite Dawn's best attempts to get him to join in. And as the evening wore on, and people got more alcohol in them, there were more and more trips up to the stage for karaoke. Giles grimaced through terrible renditions of "I Will Survive" and "Total Eclipse of the Heart." He flinched as someone slaughtered half the notes of whatever Celine Dion song was popular at the moment. They all sounded rather the same to him. Some of the Scoobies themselves tried out their singing voices, which were somewhat better than the others who had tried. It could also be because they were mostly sober while attempting it. After each person left the stage, Buffy would always prod him into going next.

"Come on," she begged. "I've never heard you sing."

"Nor will you tonight," he replied.

"_Please_. I'm the only one of the Scoobies that didn't get to see you at the Espresso Pump. They all said you were really good. You used to sing for total strangers, and you can't sing for me?"

"Total strangers being the key phrase in that sentence, Buffy. People that I never had to see again. I was rather embarrassed when the others walked into the coffee shop that evening. It's not an experience I would care to repeat."

She leaned her head against his shoulder and gave him the puppy eyes for which he usually had no defense. "Here I am, bearing your children, and you can't give me one song?"

He rested his head against her forehead, for once not willing to give in. "You first," he answered, as if that would end the discussion. He knew Buffy would never get up on stage and sing.

Barely half an hour later he was proved wrong.

She had disappeared on one of her many trips to the bathroom. He never expected to hear her voice carried to him through the sound system. He especially never expected it to be singing. He recognized the melody immediately as an old show tune, and he groaned at her choice.

"There's a somebody I'm longing to see. I hope that he turns out to be someone who'll watch over me."

He faced the stage and found her standing there with a mic in one hand and the other resting against her belly. She gave him a devilish smile when she saw that he saw her.

"I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood. I know I could be oh so good to one who'll watch over me."

Her singing voice was nice, if not very practiced. She only missed a few notes and not by so much that he cringed.

"Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, to my heart he carries the key."

Whatever she lacked in singing talent, she made up for in enthusiasm, and he found himself smiling at her in return. If she wanted him to sing that badly, then perhaps he would sing.

"Won't you tell him please to put on some speed, follow my lead, oh how I need someone to watch over me."

Willow was at his shoulder then, giving him a playful nudge as Buffy finished her song.

"Where is that someone to watch over me?"

And then his slayer blew him a kiss and mouthed the words, "You're next."

"You gonna sing, Giles?" Willow asked him.

"I suppose. In a little while. Distract Buffy for me so it will at least be a surprise."

Buffy returned to their table and sulked as soon as she realized Giles still had no intention of singing. Suddenly she doubled over. "Oww!"

Giles jumped off his chair so fast, it tipped over behind him. "Buffy?"

She took his hand and placed it against her stomach. The babies seemed to be quite active. "I'm fine, Giles. They're just moving a lot. Must be all the music. Maybe my singing. One of them just kicked me really _hard_. Must be your son."

"_My_ son?" he asked with a wry grin, still holding his hand against the moving mound of wriggling babies.

"_My_ son would never be so mean to his mother. Must be yours."

"Yes, well, in any event," he said, "you'll not get me on stage through any attempt to fake labor."

Willow bounced on her feet, staring eagerly at Buffy's stomach. "Can I?"

Buffy threw up her hands. "Have at it."

An awed smile slipped over the witch's face as she laid her hands on the pregnant tummy. "Wow, Buffy. I can feel them. Real, live people inside you. You and Giles made people. This is better than magic."

Giles took the opportunity to slip away as Willow kept Buffy occupied. He asked the DJ for the list of karaoke songs and skimmed through his options. He chose and stepped up to the microphone. He still couldn't believe he was doing this. But then the music was starting, and there was no backing out.

"She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, may be my treasure or the price I have to pay."

Buffy had turned in her seat to watch him, and he focused on her eyes. Let the rest of the room fall away. He was singing just for her.

"She may be the song the summer sings, may be the chill the autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day."

His voice resonated through the Bronze, every note hit perfectly. The background chatter quieted. Giles performed so rarely in public that he forgot how much others enjoyed his voice. To him, it was just his voice, nothing special, just something he had always possessed. And now he filled that clear voice with everything he had ever felt for his beautiful slayer, but hadn't been able to put into words. It leant his crystal tenor the power to move even the coldest of hearts as they watched him from the audience.

"She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, may turn each day into a heaven or a hell."

Tears flowed down his sweet slayer's cheeks now, and her arms curled to embrace the twins she carried inside her, the proof of their love.

"She may be the mirror of my dreams, the smile reflected in a stream. She may not be what she may seem inside her shell."

He took the mic from its stand and moved closer to the edge of the stage, closer to Buffy.

"She who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can always be so private and so proud. No one's allowed to see them when they cry."

He closed his eyes at the next part, closed them against the memory of her death, against the knowledge that he was certain to lose her once again.

"She may be the love that cannot hope to last, beckons indeed from shadows of the past that I'll remember 'til the day I die."

He opened his eyes again and found her. Only her. She was his sole audience. He knew that tears shimmered in his own eyes now as well as hers.

"She may be the reason I survive, the why and wherefore I'm alive, the one I'll care for through the rough and ready years."

He drew breath to fill his lungs, to give power to his voice for these final lines. And through his voice, he bared his soul.

"Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears and make them all my souvenirs. For where she goes I've got to be. The meaning of my life is she."

He held the last note until the audience began to scream and applaud. And then he held it even a little longer, letting it fade away with the music. He had forgotten he had an audience. He had let himself be drawn so far into Buffy that he noticed no one else. Now he was quickly reminded of everyone else in the Bronze as they continued to applaud and scream and pound on their tables. Of course, some of that enthusiasm could be attributed to the empty bottles and glasses littering nearly every table.

Giles made his way back to their table, shyly accepting praise from the other guests he passed. The embarrassment factor was now kicking in, and he would be glad when they left. Ah, the things his slayer got him to do.

He reached their table and received an enthusiastic and passionate kiss, which left him winded. Buffy was still crying, and he dried her tears with the back of his hand.

The evening ended far less pleasantly than it began. Xander's parents had consumed enough alcohol to start screaming at each other about whether or not his father had his eye on another female guest. Luckily, two other relations were able to split the pair up and take them both home in separate cars.

Xander appeared embarrassed by the whole scene, and it put a damper on the festivities. People began to take their leave of the newlyweds in pairs and small groups, until just the Scoobies were left sitting around a table. Buffy was dozing against Giles' shoulder, completely exhausted after the full day and after skipping her usual nap. Dawn was totally wired, having consumed an equal amount of caffeine to the amount of alcohol Xander's relations had put away. She was the only one still talking, the only one still left with the energy, and she complained about having to start back at school on Monday after such a nice Christmas break. She tried to convince Giles that she should stay home the next week as well, so she could help Buffy through the last week or two of her pregnancy. Giles only shook his head. Dawn wouldn't be missing any school if they could help it, even after the twins came, he added when she started to ask him that very thing.

They all said goodbye to Xander and Anya, wished them a happy honeymoon on their cruise, and went home to their beds.

* * *

Her father's wedding turned out to be far more grand and far less fun. Giles grumbled about having to wear a tuxedo again when he wasn't even in the wedding. Buffy explained to him just exactly what seeing him in a tux made her want to do to him, and he stopped complaining.

Her father's wedding was a dull black tie affair. All the men in tuxes, all the women in evening gowns. The wedding party wore white tuxedos with tails, and the bridesmaids were dressed in slinky red silk dresses. Of course, Buffy's dress had much more fabric than any of Susan's anorexic friends, but still it flattered her. The spaghetti straps and low-slung back showed off her well-toned arms and back. The front draped across her pregnancy-enhanced cleavage in such a way, that even Buffy found herself looking down and thinking, _Wow, where did those come from_? And then the simple, elegant lines of the skirt fell across her stomach in the most flattering way it could. Giles had called her a vision in red.

The wedding went off without a hitch, although Buffy's back was killing her by the time the priest finished the service. Apparently, Susan's family was Catholic, and Catholic weddings were long. Not to mention that all the stand up, kneel down, stand up, kneel down, and so on was not so easy to accomplish while she was nearly ready to burst with twins. Buffy was the equivalent of 32 weeks, which Giles informed her made her the same size as a full term woman with one baby. That didn't improve her mood to know that she could only get bigger. The babies could come anytime, then again it could be a week or more as well, the doctor had told them. A week or more meant a whole month, month and a half worth of getting bigger. She couldn't imagine that she could stretch anymore than she already had.

The reception was a formal dinner at a local country club. During the meal, Buffy sat back with her feet on a chair Giles had pulled up for just that purpose. Poor guy was off sitting by himself, since she and Dawn were at the head table with the wedding party. Besides the three of them and the newlyweds, Buffy didn't know another soul out of the 500 or so that filled the hall. She had told Giles knowingly that her father's wedding would be a business function. Besides Susan's family and friends, the majority of guests were colleagues, clients, associates, and potential business allies. Hank sometimes seemed almost irritated to be pulled away from productive networking conversations only to perform some wedding duty like cutting the cake or dancing with his new wife.

And you could be sure that there would be no karaoke here tonight. Just a classic swing band and a DJ who played during their breaks.

Giles, Dawn, and Buffy sat at a table together, watching the guests dance around them, and wondering how early they could leave without being rude. A slow song came on, and Giles led Dawn out onto the floor, making her laugh when he twirled her a few times. The next slow song was Buffy's turn. She needed some extra help getting out of her chair, and this time his arms couldn't fit all the way around her as they had the week before at Xander's wedding. She waited for him to tease her, but he wisely kept his tongue.

The babies didn't seem to get as energized by the music this week as they had the last at the Bronze. Maybe it was because the music generally sucked. She called it elevator musack, but Giles actually liked it. Maybe they just didn't move as much because there simply wasn't enough room. As it was, they were sitting right on her bladder, so she had to go every 15 or 20 minutes, and were pressed right up to her lungs, so she had to catch her breath halfway up a single flight of stairs. She was tired and achy, and her back _always_ hurt, and she was completely ready for it to be over. How did women do this for nine months? It had only been two months for her, and she had totally forgotten what it felt like to have her body all to herself.

She laid her head down against Giles' shoulder, tucked beneath his chin, and sighed. They swayed back and forth to the music, lost in their own little world.

"Thomas or Philip?" he said.

"Naw, too many bad connotations. You'll always think of Eyghon. Austin or Dawson?"

"You watch too many soap operas," he scolded. "Andrew or Charles?"

"Aren't those British royals? Hmm… Let's try girls. Haley or Monica?"

He shook his head. "Haley, again soap opera. Monica… the whole Clinton scandal."

"Good point," she said. "Amber or Charlotte?"

"Amber sounds too much like a stripper. Not the idea I want people to get about my daughter. Charlotte's pretty, though."

She slid her arms around his neck and turned slightly sideways, so she could nestle closer against him without her stomach getting in the way. "Michelle or Jenny?… Maybe not. Bad connotations there too."

He laid his head against the crown of hers. "No, actually I kind of like the idea of Jenny."

"I'll think about it. Marshal or Mitchell? For the boy." When he didn't answer right away, she nuzzled him under the chin. "Giles?"

There was a long silence, and then he asked softly, "Will they have my name?"

Buffy cringed. "Rupert Jr.? No offense, but I really never liked your first name. I mean, it is okay that I call you Giles, right? Rupert would just be too weird. That's what the old guys from the Council call you. I look around for Travers every time I hear it. Nope, Giles is definitely who you are to me."

"That's what I meant. Will they be Summers or Giles?"

She pulled back to look at him. Where was this coming from? "They could be one of each, I guess. Or is this about all the weddings we've been to? Is this about marriage?"

He leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. "Maybe I'm being old fashioned, maybe it's just the difference in our generations, but I always imagined I'd be married to the mother of my children."

"Are you asking? Is that a proposal?"

"Well yes, I suppose it is. Will you?"

She chuckled. "I gotta tell you, that's one lame ass proposal."

He stopped dancing, stopped swaying with the music, and dropped to one knee. "Buffy Summers—"

"Omigod!" she interrupted, hauling him to his feet. "What are you doing? People are _looking_ at us."

"I thought you wanted—"

"I was _kidding_, Giles." She examined him more closely. "You're totally serious about this, aren't you?"

"Well, yes."

She smiled. If that's what he wanted, then that's what he would get. "How 'bout now? Let's get married right now."

"Here at your father's wedding?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun. Come on, Giles. We've been to two weddings in the last two weeks. I'm not really feeling a big hankering for white dresses and chapels, are you? Not to mention, we have twins coming any day now. We don't exactly have a lot of time to plan a big wedding. So here we are. You're dressed up. I'm dressed up. There's like a whole slew of photographers running around. What do you say we grab Dawn, a couple of witnesses, steal my dad's preacher, and duck in the back room to get ourselves married?"

Giles frowned, his eyes searching hers. "I don't know. We could have a real wedding later, if you liked."

"I could care less one way or the other. But this is important to you, isn't it? And you really kinda would like it to happen before the babies come, wouldn't you?" He nodded reluctantly. "All right then. It's settled." She kissed him, as if to seal the deal. He was still frowning. "What?" she asked.

"Isn't it rather bad form to take over someone else's wedding?"

She laughed. "It's my dad. You guys barely tolerate each other. Don't deny it. There's a part of you that enjoys the idea of crashing my dad's wedding." He smirked and looked away. She knew him too well. "Besides, we don't have to tell him. Just go find the priest or preacher or whatever. I'll get Dawn and a couple people we don't know for witnesses. Meet back in the gift room in ten minutes." She covered his eyes. "Don't look at me anymore. It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding." She spun him away from her and gave him a little shove. "Go on. Baby clock's ticking, and I wouldn't like to go into labor at _our_ wedding."

When Buffy told her sister, Dawn screamed, garnering curious looks from all those around them. The two stepped off to the side for more privacy and continued the conversation in hushed whispers.

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now," Buffy answered. "And you _cannot_ tell Dad."

Dawn beamed. "Awesome! But you know Xander and Willow are going to totally kill you for leaving them out. Tara and Anya too."

Buffy shrugged and patted her stomach. "We're on a deadline."

* * *

The priest had at first balked when Giles asked him. There were too many things that had to be done first: couples counseling and blood tests and marriage certificates. Plus, he couldn't possibly marry them outside a Christian church. He advised the watcher that marriage was a holy institution and not to be entered into on a whim.

And then Buffy joined them in the gift room, and when the priest saw her condition, he decided to make an exception. Giles may have also hinted to him that she had already gone into labor.

The service was brief, containing only the bare necessities. Buffy placed her hands in his, and they each vowed to love, honor, and cherish the other, as long as they both should live. Sealed with a kiss, and as quickly as that, they were husband and wife.

The priest pulled out a spare marriage certificate he had brought for Hank and Susan just in case. He fudged on the blood work for them and directed the two witnesses Buffy had brought, members of the swing band on a break, to sign in the appropriate places. He informed them that he would file the certificate and mail them a copy, that there might be more paperwork for them to take care of later, but that in every way that mattered they were now married.

Dawn kissed them both, skipping ahead of them into the reception hall. Buffy and Giles followed at a more leisurely pace, holding hands and gazing adoringly at each other. It had all happened so fast and in such a blur, he could still hardly believe that his slayer was now also his wife.

They reached the dance floor just as the DJ started a slow song. Giles took his new bride in his arms, and the two moved as one.

_I have a smile, stretched from ear to ear, to see you walking down the road._

"This would be our first dance, then, wouldn't it?" She smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

_We meet at the lights. I stare for a while. The world around us disappears._

"Yes, it would, Mrs. Giles," he answered, leaning down until their foreheads touched. The slow, sensual rhythm of a Sarah McLachlan song drowned out the background chatter of those around them. Her eyes hypnotized him. His world narrowed until there was only her.

_It's just you and me on my island of hope. A breath between us could be miles._

"Kiss your new wife."

Giles caught Hank's glare out of the corner of one eye. "Your father's watching us. He doesn't look too happy."

_Let me surround you, my sea to your shore. Let me be the calm you seek._

"Well here's your chance to show him how much you love me."

And Giles did just that, losing all track of time as his lips met hers, as his tongue gently traced the contours of her mouth until she opened for him.

_Oh and every time I'm close to you, there's too much I can't say, and you just walk away._

He drank deeply of everything she offered him, of her love and her passion and her trust.

_And I forgot to tell you I love you. And the night's too long and cold here without you._

He opened in turn for her as well, and she explored his secrets with her tongue, tasting his honor and his courage and his terrible fear of the fate he could not shield her from.

_I grieve in my condition for I cannot find the words to say I need you so._

They parted breathless and hungry for more. He brushed her hair back from her face, amazed that such a little ritual could make him feel such a deeper connection to her. She completed him. She was in his very soul.

_Oh and every time I'm close to you, there's too much I can't say, and you just walk away._

He felt his children move between them, where her stomach pressed against his. A son and a daughter. As he gazed into their mother's blue eyes, he prayed that they would each share that shade of azure. To be able to look into Buffy's eyes until he died, that would be heaven. Giles certainly thought he deserved a little heaven. Burying his slayer had been the worst kind of hell.

_And I forgot to tell you I love you. And the night's too long and cold here without you._

They kissed again before the song ended, drawing apart on the final note. In short order, the slow melody was replaced by a fast Latin rhythm, something by Ricky Martin. Giles groaned. "Shall I get Dawn to come dance with you, or are you leaving the floor with me?" She didn't respond. "Buffy?"

He tipped his head to try and look at her face where it rested now against his chest. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and deep. She had one hand against the side of her belly, and he placed his against it as well. It was very tight and hard as a rock. "Buffy?"

A moment, and then her stomach softened under his hand, and she sighed as she turned up wide frightened eyes to him. "That was a contraction, wasn't it? Not one of those little hiccupy things that the doctor said was okay to get sometimes?"

"Braxton Hicks," he reminded her. "And no, it seemed a lot stronger than that. Perhaps we should go to the hospital now."

* * *

They walked from the car to the house in silence. Dawn was disappointed that she didn't have a niece and nephew coming tonight. Buffy was both impatient to be finished and relieved to not be in labor yet. Giles didn't really know what he was.

The doctor had held her for a couple hours before deciding that it was probably false labor. They both felt somewhat embarrassed for running off to the hospital at the first twinge, but the doctor assured them that given their unusual circumstances, it was probably a wise choice.

Giles stopped her at the doorway with a wry grin and hoped to lighten her mood. "I'd carry you over the threshold…"

It worked, and Buffy chuckled. "But we'd probably end up at the hospital again if you tried. I'd put your back out for sure."

He followed her inside, and the three of them went to bed after their long and eventful day. Any hopes Giles might have had about consummating his new marriage were dashed when his pregnant wife promptly fell asleep. He smiled and spooned up behind her, laying one hand across her full belly.

She woke him at nearly 3:30 in the morning.

"Giles?"

Groggy at first as she shook him, when he came to himself, he bolted upright. "Buffy?" He was suddenly wide-awake. "Is it time?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Time for ice cream?"

He groaned and sank back into the pillows. "What kind?" he asked with a resigned sigh.

"Could you go to the store and get me some chocolate peanut butter?"

This was really getting to be too much. "Buffy, there must be fifteen different flavors in the freezer already. Wouldn't you like any of those?"

She stuck her lip out and pouted at him. "Your new wife wants chocolate peanut butter."

He looked at the clock and then scowled at her. "It's 3:30 in the morning."

She tugged on the sleeves of his pajamas. "Your son and daughter want chocolate peanut butter."

"Very well," he said as he pulled himself out of bed. "But when I get back, you bloody well better eat it. The last two times you fell asleep while I was gone."

He put the top down on the drive there and back, just to keep himself awake. When he returned, sure enough, she was already dreaming. He slipped the carton in the freezer with the others and returned to bed. _Just another week at most_, he reminded himself. _Then you'll be getting up at 3:30 in the morning to take care of your babies instead of your wife._

* * *

The next few days passed very slowly. Giles felt like he was on a constant state of alert for the slightest signal that Buffy's time had come. He insisted on bringing her to the Magic Box everyday, where she spent most of her time napping on the sofa in the back training room.

His poor slayer was constantly uncomfortable, never finding the right position to relieve the pressure on her back or ease the weight of the twins from her muscles. She cried at the drop of a hat.

On Wednesday afternoon he received just another example of this as she screamed his name, and he dashed back into the training room, only to find her watching a commercial on TV. She was sobbing and pointing at the screen.

"Look, that old woman doesn't get any mail, and she's lonely, and her neighbor put a card in her mailbox, and now she's happy."

It was a Hallmark commercial.

He turned off the TV and handed her his handkerchief. It seemed to be spending more time in her hands than in his pocket of late. Perhaps he should buy her some of her own.

"I have to pick up Dawn from school now. Will you be okay until I get back?"

She reached up for him to help her off the couch. "Can I get her?"

"I don't know, Buffy."

"_Please_, Giles, I'm going batty here. I just need to get out for a little while. It'll be like ten minutes. You've been driving the Jeep all the time, 'cause it has the car seats all ready to go in it and stuff for the hospital. I can drive the Jeep. _Please_."

"Be careful," he said finally, kissing her softly. "Be _very_ careful."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She beamed at him and bounced up to reward him with a more passionate kiss.

He didn't notice the time until he realized a half an hour had passed, and Buffy had not yet returned. After an hour, he called the school, but no one at the office could track down Dawn or Buffy. He was beginning to panic.

When Dawn finally walked through the door after over an hour and a half, he quickly snapped at her, "Where's your sister?"

"That's what I want to know," Dawn answered as she stormed into the shop. "I waited for her to pick me up from school for like an _hour_. Finally I just walked."

He felt like he couldn't breathe, like his heart was beating too fast. But he didn't want to upset the girl in front of him. Maybe it was nothing. "Dawn, go in the back and start your homework." He kept his voice neutral, lest he worry the girl, but his face had already betrayed him, and he could see that she was becoming concerned.

"Giles?"

He smiled at her in what he hoped would be a reassuring way. "I'm sure it's nothing. Just go start your homework."

Dawn didn't believe him, but she also read his mood and didn't press the issue, but instead obediently went in the back to start her homework.

Giles couldn't help but be concerned. Any number of scenarios filled his head. He pushed those images away and reached for the phone again. Maybe she had gone into labor. Maybe she was at the hospital and hadn't been able to call yet. He startled when the phone rang before he could lift the receiver. Anya emerged from the back room to answer, but stopped when she saw him standing there.

It rang a second time.

"Aren't you going to answer it? It could be a customer. With money."

It rang a third time.

There are moments in your life when you know the person on the other end is going to change your life forever. Giles just _knew_. And he didn't want to pick up the phone.

After the fourth ring, he gave into the inevitable.

"Magic Box… Yes, I do. I'm her husband… Yes, she does… Yes, those are her plates… Are you sure?…"

_No, no, this wasn't happening._

"I see… of course, right away… Yes, I know where that is… Thank you, officer."

Click.

He couldn't get the receiver to stay in the cradle. He tried to adjust it, but his hands were shaking so badly, he knocked it right off the counter.

He heard Anya's voice, but couldn't comprehend anything she was saying. He was numb. He felt her hands on his shoulders, steering him over to a chair, and he found himself sitting without the memory of having gotten there.

Buffy was right. This time was a hundred times worse.

He needed to go, needed to get to her, but his body wouldn't move. His body belonged to someone else. His mind was merely trapped inside it, waiting for this nightmare to end.

"Giles!"

Xander's voice cut through the fog. When did Xander get here? Anya must have called him. Giles looked blankly at his young friend. Xander was still wearing his work clothes and his little orange vest. He smelled of sweat and dust and sun.

"I have to go," Giles murmured.

"Where? Is it Buffy? Is she in labor? I'll take you to the hospital."

Giles stood. He stumbled slightly. His knees were weak, and Xander steadied him. "No, to the docks. The police called." Giles didn't realize he was speaking. The words seemed to be coming from someone else. "They pulled her Jeep from the bottom of Crystal River. There was blood in the driver's seat. They're dragging the bottom for…" He choked. This was the moment he realized the words were coming from his mouth. When he spoke again, it was softer. "They're dragging the bottom for her body."

Next: Part 6: And the Cradle Will Fall


	6. And the Cradle Will Fall

ORIGINALLY POSTED: July 17, 2001  
TITLE: The Ticking Clock  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: R (swearing)  
SUMMARY: After my resurrection of Buffy in "Death Brings Clarity." Can Buffy and Giles live happily ever after? Or will the very nature of the Slayer tear them apart? Is it illness, a spell, or just the next level of her slayer powers?  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.  
SECOND DISCLAIMER: Again, sorry about the touch of songfic. You should remember the song from the last part: "I Love You" by Sarah McLachlan.  
THIRD DISCLAIMER: If you're pregnant, you might not want to read this part just yet. You might want to visit hypnobirthing-com and see what a nice, comfortable, easy birth can be like. It works beautifully, trust me. I've gotten to see a lot of completely painless births using hypnobirthing, and it's awesome! But this is fiction, and also, traumatic circumstances.

* * *

Part 6: And the Cradle Will Fall

Giles could see the emergency lights at a distance. Traffic was backed up for miles, and the slow pace was shredding his already frayed nerves. He closed his eyes, pressed his head back against the headrest, and took slow deep breaths. His heart hammered in his chest, so loud he could hear it pounding in his ears. He placed his hand over his heart, as if that could quiet the thrumming, as if that could ease the ache in his chest or stop the twisting of his stomach. Every few minutes Xander would look over from the driver's seat and ask him if he was alright. Giles would only nod. He had lost the ability to speak some miles back, now unable to force sound past the lump that had settled in the back of his throat.

"Screw this," Xander said finally and pulled onto the shoulder of the road, zipping ahead of the other cars. The other rush hour commuters, already irritated by the delay, gave them dirty looks and honked their horns and flipped them off and rolled down their windows to shout obscenities that wind and distance stole away before Xander and Giles ever heard them.

They made it a couple miles before an irate businessman in an SUV pulled onto the shoulder in front of them to block their way. By this point they could see the bridge just ahead, where the road now narrowed to one lane. Giles could just make out the tiny figure of a police officer directing traffic, allowing some cars to pass and then stopping others so traffic could cross the bridge from the other direction.

Xander jumped out of the car, as did the man in the SUV. They started shouting at each other, and Giles could only catch a few words here and there. Not because they weren't loud enough to carry to him, but because it took more than he had in him to focus on the words.

A squad car pulled up on the shoulder behind them, its lights flashing, its siren wailing for a moment before the car turned off. After a calmer conversation between Xander, the businessman, and the cop, the SUV pulled back into its own lane, the squad car passed them on the shoulder, and they had a police escort the rest of the distance to the bridge.

There were several police cars there already. An ambulance, on the off chance they would find someone who could still be saved. From the way the paramedics lounged about next to their rig, drinking coffee and chatting, it was apparent that they didn't feel they would be needed. A few other rescue vehicles were parked along the closed lane, but Giles didn't recognize what they were for. Some kind of special operations.

He climbed out of the car and slowly approached the scene, Xander following closely behind. The officer who had escorted them walked up and began talking with them. Xander answered all the man's questions. Giles paid no attention to them. His eyes had found her Jeep.

Boat docks lined the riverbank on either side of the bridge. It was a popular launch. In fact, he and Buffy had patrolled through here on many different occasions. Crystal River fed right into the Pacific and was a convenient place to dock one's boat to take advantage of both ocean and river boating.

On the bank nearest the bridge, an oversized tow truck had backed right up to the water's edge. Cranked up on its wench, Buffy's Jeep was held aloft at a strange angle. The police officer had been kind on the phone when he had told Giles only that there was blood in the car. Her Jeep was mangled. He saw the scuba divers at the ends of the nearest docks, going in and coming out, searching for his slayer.

Xander tugged on his arm, leading him away from the sight of her Jeep and taking him up to the bridge, where their escort was bringing them to the officer in charge.

"Mr. Giles?" An older, uniformed man with graying hair and a salt and pepper beard was holding out his hand for the watcher.

Giles couldn't tear his gaze away from the sight behind the man. Black skid marks traced a path several meters long, turning from the right lane and veering across the narrow shoulder and over the edge. The guardrail had broken at the point of impact, twisting and curling out past the bridge and over the water.

"Mr. Giles?"

He snapped his attention back to the cop standing in front of him. He forced himself to shake the man's hand.

"I'm Lieutenant Brady. I spoke to you on the phone. I'm the one running this show. Is there anything I can get for you? Coffee maybe?"

Giles shook his head, and Brady pulled out a small notepad before continuing. "This is all we know so far. A couple witnesses report seeing a woman in a black Jeep slam on the brakes, lose control of her vehicle, and drive through the guardrails and over the edge. We have five separate 911 calls from cell phones, all around 3:15 pm. The rescue team was able to locate the vehicle and retrieve it from the river at nearly 3:55. It didn't appear that the doors or windows had been opened, but there was blood in the passenger compartment, and the windshield had been completely blown out."

Giles tried to imagine how Buffy might have escaped. Perhaps she had been able to unfasten her seatbelt and bail out as the Jeep plunged over the side and into the river. Perhaps she had gone down with the Jeep, but smashed out the windshield herself and climbed out to safety. Eventually he had to admit to himself that at over 34 weeks with twins, she wouldn't have been able to do either of those things. She had barely been able to get off the couch by herself.

Brady was still talking. "We pulled up the car's registration and cross-referenced it with the owner's license. The witnesses were able to corroborate that the woman driving matched the DMV photo for Buffy Summers. We had a home number, but it took a bit of time to track down your place of employment. I'm sorry we couldn't reach you earlier. And I'm sorry we don't have better news for you. Right now the likeliest possibility is that she was thrown through the windshield at impact and is somewhere in the river as well. We've been dragging the bottom, and the divers are searching also, but it's been nearly two and a half hours. We aren't going to find her alive. With the current, we might not find her at all. I'm so sorry."

Giles looked past the officer to the guardrail again. He was trying not to imagine what it must have been like for her, trying not to picture her as she went through the windshield and tumbled into the water, the Jeep following behind. Why wouldn't she have been wearing her seatbelt? Except that lately it had been bothering her to have it across her stomach. Giles had always shamed her into wearing it, despite the discomfort. Why couldn't she have worn it today?

Giles brought his eyes back to the man in front of him. He found his voice again, but still it was very quiet. "She's full term with twins."

Brady looked down. "Again, my deepest sympathies." He held out a small card. "This is my number at the precinct. You don't have to stay here if you don't want. We'll call if there's any further information."

Giles took it numbly. "Thank you." But he didn't leave. He stayed for as long as the rescue workers did. He sat on the edge of the bridge, his legs dangling over the edge, Xander sitting quietly beside him, and watched the divers and the workers as they searched for his slayer, as they tried to at least give him the body of his wife and the children she carried.

Giles and Xander were both numb. It was like when they all sat in the library after they thought Willow had been made a vampire. It was like those first hours after finding Buffy at the bottom of the scaffolding. It was too overwhelming, too sudden to believe. It couldn't be real. Just a few short hours ago she had been warm and alive and in his arms, and he had sent her to her death.

He'd always known it would happen one day, but he had thought he would be sending her to fight a demon or stop an apocalypse. He never imagined that he could lose his slayer to a common car accident. Not the Slayer who had killed Lothos, the Master, an ascendant demon, who had even fought a god, who had died _twice_ and come back. _Third time's the charm._

They had all made fun of her rotten driving ability. He shouldn't have laughed it off with the others. He should have spent time improving her skills. He shouldn't have let her go pick up Dawn. What was he thinking? She was in no condition to be driving around by herself. She had probably gone into labor. That's probably why she lost control.

The rescue team continued until after dark, with high-powered lights and handheld flashlights. It wasn't long after dark before they brought him something they'd found of hers. The bracelet he had given her for Christmas. She had been wearing it when she left, and now one of the links was snapped. That was when Xander began crying. Giles only thanked the officer who had brought it and slipped it in his pocket.

They didn't work very long into the evening. They probably only worked as long as they did because Giles was sitting on the bridge watching them. By quarter to nine it had been exactly five and a half hours since the Jeep went into the water. Like Lieutenant Brady had told him, after this much time they had no chance to find her alive and with the undercurrents strong as they were, her body could likely be in the Pacific by now.

The emergency crews packed up their gear and left in their rigs. Lieutenant Brady offered his condolences again before leaving as well. Soon it was just Xander and Giles sitting on the bridge and looking over the water. This was more than likely the only grave they would ever have for Buffy.

* * *

Willow stopped before knocking on the front door. It had been more than a day since it had happened, and she had cried until she didn't think she could cry anymore, until her tears had run out and she had only the red marks under her eyes and down her cheeks to show her grief. But now, standing in front of the door, she was afraid that she would start all over again. And she _couldn't_. Not right now.

Willow turned panicked eyes towards her lover, whose own eyes were red as hers. "Tara, I can't do this."

Tara framed Willow's face with her hands and kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Strong like an Amazon, remember?"

Willow closed her eyes and nodded, taking a deep breath. "Right. Strong like an Amazon. Okay, I can do this. Dawn needs me. Giles needs me. I can do this." She felt Tara's hand join with hers, and she knew she could do this. She had Tara, and together they could do anything.

Willow knocked.

Dawn answered the door. She had been crying, was still crying, and immediately came into Willow's arms for a hug. Willow heard the music drifting out to them, a slow sad melody, the same melody she had heard in the background when Dawn had called them.

Dawn gave Tara a hug too, and the three of them stood on the porch for a moment without going inside.

"How is he?" Willow asked.

Dawn shrugged. "Dunno. He hasn't said two words. He just sits and listens to that stupid song over and over again and drinks. He drinks a lot. I think he's drunk. He hasn't eaten anything. He fell asleep in the babies' room in the rocking chair last night." She wiped the tears from her cheeks and crossed her arms angrily. "I just can't stand that stupid song anymore, and he won't let me turn it off."

"What is it?" Tara asked.

Dawn sniffed and looked down. "Something by Sarah somebody. I dunno. It was what they danced to after they got married."

Willow nodded in understanding. Wow, could that have been only Saturday? And now here it was Thursday, not even a week later, and he was mourning her and their babies that he had never even gotten to see. "Dawn, do you want to go for a walk with Tara?"

"Sure."

Tara looked at her, concerned. "Willow, you sure you don't want me… I mean, when you… We could just wait out here if you wanted."

Willow shook her head, and gave the blonde witch a small smile. "I'll be fine. Strong like an Amazon. You two go to the park or get ice cream or something."

When she said ice cream, Dawn started sobbing, and Tara pulled the girl into her arms and started walking her down the porch steps, giving Willow one last look over her shoulder before they left.

Willow stepped through the front door, shutting it behind her. The song echoed through the whole house, the melody full of longing and regret, a slow sensual rhythm that Willow could imagine Watcher and Slayer dancing to.

She found him sitting on the couch, a glass and a bottle of Scotch on the table in front of him, both half empty. He was wearing one of his Oxford shirts over dress slacks. It looked like what he'd probably been wearing at the Magic Box the day before. It looked like he'd slept in them. Jacket and tie missing, cuffs rolled up, first three buttons of the collar undone. His pocketwatch lay open on the table beside his drink. She saw his fingers touch the engraving before his shaking hand took the glass and drained it in one swallow.

_I grieve in my condition for I cannot find the words to say I need you so._

"Giles?" She approached him until she was standing directly in front of him. He didn't seem to notice her. He still clutched the glass in one hand. The other reached unsteadily for the bottle. She grabbed it first. "You've had enough."

_Oh and every time I'm close to you, there's too much I can't say, and you just walk away._

His head came up slowly to look at her. She had never seen his eyes look so empty. Not even after Buffy died the last time. Willow doubted if even Dawn would be enough to keep him going this time. His trembling hand reached for the bottle, but she held it further beyond his grasp. "No. This isn't helping, Giles. This isn't what Buffy would have wanted."

_And I forgot to tell you I love you. And the night's too long and cold here without you._

His hand dropped. His head bowed. "Just leave me alone, Willow."

_I grieve in my condition for I cannot find the words to say I need you so._

The music faded into silence. And then the song clicked over and started again. Willow could understand why it had been driving Dawn nuts. It was like a constant funeral dirge. She could only imagine what it was doing to Giles, to remember dancing with his new wife, to remember when the song was romantic and filled with promises.

_I have a smile, stretched from ear to ear, to see you walking down the road._

"I'm not going to leave you alone, Giles, so you can just stop fighting me right now and save us both a lot of hassle. Come on. We're going to sober you up. And then you're going to eat something." She set the bottle beside the wall and reached for his hand.

_We meet at the lights. I stare for a while. The world around us disappears._

"I am sober," he murmured. "I can't seem to get drunk. I keep drinking, but I can't seem to get drunk. I think that might be nice. It's got to be bloody better than this."

_It's just you and me on my island of hope. A breath between us could be miles._

Willow pulled him to his feet, and he didn't resist her, but he did sway and cling to her for balance. "Maybe you should rethink that whole sober thing. You seem pretty drunk to me. Come on. How does coffee sound?"

_Let me surround you, my sea to your shore. Let me be the calm you seek._

"Terrible," he answered. He staggered as they walked towards the kitchen, and Willow looped one of his arms over her shoulder to support him. As they passed the dining room table, she noticed the various empty liquor bottles sitting next to the ones that hadn't even been opened yet. There were more empty bottles than full. Giles had drunk a lot. Maybe she should take him to a doctor or something.

_Oh and every time I'm close to you, there's too much I can't say, and you just walk away._

She could hear the music even out in the kitchen. It was an undercurrent that flowed beneath everything. It set the mood for the house. She wanted to turn it off, but first she would have to get Giles situated. She deposited him on a stool next to the island counter, started a pot of coffee, and opened the fridge to see what she could feed him.

_And I forgot to tell you I love you. And the night's too long and cold here without you._

She put a couple frozen dinners in the microwave. He probably wouldn't like them, but it would get something in his stomach. She gave him a glass of water in the meantime, glaring at him until he drank it.

_I grieve in my condition for I cannot find the words to say I need you so._

"Willow," he spoke very quietly, leaning against the counter, his head tipping very low as if he soon wouldn't be able to hold it up anymore. "Do you think they would have had her eyes?"

_Oh and every time I'm close to you, there's too much I can't say, and you just walk away._

Willow bit her lip not to cry. She couldn't start now. She wouldn't be able to stop. Strong like an Amazon. She could do this. She could be the one he leaned on for once. He had always been the one they leaned on. "I think they would have had her eyes and her blonde hair. But Buffy used to tell me that she hoped at least one would have your green eyes. She always liked your green eyes."

_And I forgot to tell you I love you. And the night's too long and cold here without you._

Giles began to cry. Willow had never seen him cry. Buffy had, after Jenny died, but he had never done so in front of any of the others. Not after Jenny. Not after Buffy died the last time. Not once. Willow wasn't sure that he would want her to see this, not sure that he wouldn't be embarrassed to break down in front of her. But she couldn't just leave him like that. So she cautiously wrapped her arms around him. When he returned her embrace, she pulled him in tighter, feeling him shake against her as he sobbed.

_I grieve in my condition for I cannot find the words to say I need you so._

The music faded again, and the song clicked over, starting once again at the beginning. The microwave beeped. The coffee had finished brewing. She would have to eventually turn off that damn song, pour him some coffee, and make him eat something. All that could wait, though. For right now, she had to hold Giles while he cried.

* * *

Buffy measured out the space of her prison: 10 feet by 10 feet. Her dorm room had been bigger. A nice big double bed took up most of the room. A small dresser. She opened it: three drawers of clothes and a couple spare sets of sheets. Maternity shirts, pants, even underthings. Ethan had also been thoughtful enough to provide her with nursing bras.

_He certainly seems intent on keeping me here until the babies come. And then after._ She didn't even want to think about how long she would have after before Ethan took her children to the people who had hired him. _Giles will find us._ It became her mantra over the next few days. _Giles will find us._

She sat on the bed. Comfortable at least. She would need that or her back would be killing her in no time. Next to the bed, a simple nightstand with a digital clock. It had a large red display. Hours. Minutes. Even seconds measured out in the neon red lights. So she could keep track of every moment of her imprisonment.

She slid out the one drawer of the nightstand. A couple Harlequin novels. Because what Ethan wanted of course, she thought sarcastically, was a horny pregnant slayer.

Beneath the trashy novels, a blank baby book with a pen. Places for babies' footprints, handprints. And pages and pages of blank space for her to journal. _Ethan wants me to be able to take home my memories._ She wasn't sure if it was meant as a kindness or a further way to torment her with what he would take from her.

She slid the drawer back in and looked up at the video camera above the door. There was one on each side of the bedroom, and two in the bathroom as well, so there wasn't one inch of space in her prison that they couldn't watch her.

She rose from the bed and crossed again to the dresser. On top sat a half-fridge, like she'd had in the dorms. Inside, it was well stocked with things they had thought she might want to eat. On the dresser beside it, they had stacked some dishes and silverware.

She tried the door for the hundredth time. It was solid metal, had no handle, and latched with a sophisticated locking mechanism like the doors at the Initiative. Except that she wasn't at the Initiative. She really had no idea where they had taken her. But she knew she wouldn't be getting out the door on her own power, even after her slayer skills returned.

She walked into the bathroom. There was no door separating the two rooms that she could see. The cabinet below the sink was stocked with all the white fluffy towels and washcloths that could fit. Like a hotel, except that she couldn't check out.

At that moment, the door revealed itself. It slid out from inside the wall and sealed off the doorway, trapping her inside the bathroom. She pounded on the metal surface and tried to slide it open, but it was as secure as the outside door to her prison. After about fifteen minutes, the door suddenly opened again, and she was allowed back into the bedroom. A tray of hot food was now resting on the bed, along with a note, which read, _Any requests? –Ethan_.

"Yeah," Buffy said, crumpling up the note and looking up into one of the cameras. "How about letting me the hell out of here before I have to hunt you down and beat the living shit out of you?"

But there was no response, and she was hungry, and the babies were going to make her eat, and so she ate. She thought back to the chain of events that had brought her here and tried to work out if there was anything she could have done differently. No, there wasn't. There hadn't been time. They had been expecting her. She hadn't even made it into the Jeep. The car had pulled up behind her so quickly, she hadn't time to turn around before a man she didn't know had grabbed her from behind and pressed something up to her mouth and nose. She had recognized Ethan Rayne immediately when he stepped in front of her. He had given her an apologetic smile and told her he was sorry as he took the keys from her hand. She had struggled against the stranger's grip behind her, struggled to breathe through the thick chemical smell. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was Ethan climbing into the driver's seat of her Jeep. The whole abduction had taken less than 30 seconds.

She had come to on this bed in this room, Ethan sitting on a chair across the room, watching her. He had been quite talkative. He seemed to want her to forgive his involvement in all of this. He was merely following orders from his mysterious Boss and his accomplice. They had freed him from Nevada, from the place _she_ had sent him, he quickly reminded her. As if this made them even. And then the part that had made her blood run cold. He had told her that they planned to take her twins after birth, but unless she gave them a lot of grief, Ethan could probably convince his cohorts to let her go afterwards.

She had told him to go to hell, and he had left. She had rushed to the door as it opened, but the weight of the twins made it feel like running through quicksand, and she was far too slow. She hadn't seen Ethan since then. And now it appeared that they intended to lock her in the bathroom anytime they wished to enter her room. In her condition, she could only hold it for so long, so they would have lots of opportunities.

She finished her meal and set the empty tray on the dresser. She curled up on the bed, running her hands lovingly across her belly. The twins were sleeping at the moment, and she was trying to formulate some kind of plan in her head. She was drawing a blank. It seemed her only hope was to have Giles rescue her. She started to cry, hating herself for doing so, for giving Ethan and whoever else was watching her on the monitors the satisfaction of witnessing her tears.

Today was Wednesday. Probably Wednesday. She couldn't have been unconscious that long. The big neon clock on the nightstand read 8:45 pm. It matched the time on her watch. They had no reason to mess with her sense of time, so the clock was probably correct. That was when she noticed the bracelet on her other hand was gone, the one Giles had given her. She began crying again. If she couldn't have him here with her, then she wanted something of him to keep her grounded and hopeful. There was nothing else. They hadn't time to buy wedding rings yet, and she had wanted to wait until the swelling in her hands went away. No point in having it resized after the twins came.

One of the babies moved. Still too cramped for the gymnastics and hard kicking they had done a couple weeks ago, she could feel the movement more like the early stirrings she had felt at the beginning. She smiled and patted over the baby tenderly. She had his son and his daughter inside her, and that would have to be enough. She poked over the hard mass of her stomach, feeling for elbows and feet and butts. She felt a small answering kick to one of her pokes, and she played with the baby until the other woke as well, and they were both moving inside her.

Thursday came and went, and Friday as well. Buffy was bored. She paced. She actually picked up the Harlequin books and read them. She napped. She tried to ease the constant ache in her lower back, but she couldn't reach, and Giles wasn't here to massage her. The bathroom door locked behind her a few times each day, so they could bring her each meal. She snacked on Jell-O from the fridge, and finally lowered herself to actually asking Ethan for mint chocolate chip ice cream, which was dutifully delivered with the next meal.

She got used to the video cameras and the lack of privacy. She would give them the finger while sitting on the toilet. Sometimes, though, she almost wished that Ethan would come into her room again, although she would never actually ask for it. The silence and the loneliness were the worst. She took to talking to her babies, calling them Rabbit 1 and Rabbit 2. She wished she and Giles had thought of names sooner.

By bedtime Friday night, she was feeling as big as a house. Her feet had disappeared from view long before Xander and Anya's wedding. Now she almost imagined that she wouldn't be able to fit through the bathroom door if she went sideways. And it usually took her a minute or more to work herself off the bed or get back on it. But as ready as she was for this to be over, she was terrified of going into labor here by herself with no doctor, no Giles. He would have to find her before that happened. But it was Friday already, and the clock was seriously ticking. Saturday made her 36 weeks, which Dr. Michaels had told her was the average delivery time for twins. Wednesday would put her over 38 weeks, and depending on size, the doctor had discussed inducing her if she went much past that.

So Friday night, before bed, Buffy stepped into the shower, hoping to relax herself with a long hot soak. There were handrails against each wall, and she leaned on them as she let the water run over first her stomach and then her back. She wished again for Giles' hands to rub away all her aches. One of the babies had shifted so his head was in just the wrong place and pressing against her back. She turned the nozzle to massage and let the stream pound against her lower back. It helped only a little.

Finally she had pruned up enough and relaxed to the point she thought she could sleep. She turned off the water and grabbed a towel from the rack. When she had completely dried off, she felt a sudden gush, and the insides of her legs were wet again. She looked down. Her water had broken.

_Don't panic, Buffy_, she told herself. It was hard not to. She couldn't remember what she was supposed to do. Giles had been the one to read all those books and study up on all of this. He had tried to interest her in it, and now she was wishing she had listened to him. She dried herself off again and stepped out of the shower. She pulled on a nightgown and looked up at the cameras.

"Please, Ethan, you have to send me a doctor. Dr. Michaels would come. He's a Council man. There wouldn't even be questions. I need a doctor. Michaels told us one of the babies is breech. She's going to need extra help. _Please_."

Buffy waited in the bathroom for a half an hour, but the door wouldn't lock her out. She paced along the tile, splashed water on her face from the sink, and tried to slow her panic.

_It's going to be fine, Buffy. The doctor only said that she _might_ need help. The babies will both be fine. You'll be fine. You can do this._

She looked up into the mirror, and her reflection seemed to say, _Liar_.

Finally she was tired and went to bed. She tossed and turned for an hour or so before she could still her mind enough to sleep. 11:30pm was the last thing she remembered the clock saying. She woke at 3:30am when she felt her stomach tighten, like it had at her father's wedding, only this time much stronger. She pressed her hand against her belly and shifted her weight on the bed. Long, slow, deep breaths and eventually the sensation passed. Her first real contraction. That wasn't so bad. She didn't know what she had been so afraid of. She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

Ten or fifteen minutes later and another one woke her. By nearly seven they were a steady eight to ten minutes apart, and she couldn't sleep between them anymore. Her water continued to leak with each one, so by now she was sleeping in a wet bed anyway. She got up and changed the sheets, laying a layer of towels over the top. She changed into a fresh nightgown and started to pace back and forth across her prison, leaning over the dresser or against the bedpost during each contraction. They were getting stronger, and by nine they were starting to hurt.

She tried different positions, but it didn't seem to matter. She sat on the foot of the bed with her legs dangling over the edge and took long slow breaths, curling her fingers into the sheets and towels as the tightness slowly changed to pressure and pain. She tried the next one on the bed, kneeling on all fours. But that didn't seem to be much better. The wave rose inside her, and she rocked back into her hips, her forehead pressing against the bed beneath her. She tried on her side for the one after that, but she only ended up curled into a little ball, staring at the clock, willing the seconds to move along faster.

By noon, they came a constant five minutes apart and lasted 45 seconds to a minute. She knew the length of each surge almost to the second, because her eyes never left the clock during each one. Sometimes she wondered if the clock was broken, because the seconds seemed to slow down during the contractions. It seemed to get stuck completely at each peak, leaving her gasping there for long moments before the seconds started moving again and she could come down.

Sometimes she had them while in the bathroom, and they were always more intense. She would sit on the toilet with her hands pressing against the sink and the wall, her head shaking back and forth as she held her breath and waited for the peak so she could come down. Sometimes the intensity forced a deep guttural moan from the back of her throat. Sometimes the pain made her legs shake uncontrollably.

She tried to stay in bed as much as possible. They were just too intense when she was walking or when she was sitting. She couldn't remember how she was supposed to breathe. There was some magic pattern that was supposed to make all of this go away. If she could remember the special breathing patterns, then it wouldn't hurt anymore. She was wishing she had paid attention in Lamaze. She was wishing she had listened to Giles when he had tried to help her practice this stuff. They were getting closer and stronger, and she didn't know how much stronger they could get before they wouldn't just snap her in two.

She hadn't wanted to have the babies here alone. She had wanted to stall until Giles could come. But now she just wanted it over. _Over, over, OVER_. Sometimes instead of breathing, she would groan and tell the babies to come down, down, _down_ already. But they were disobedient little things. Must take after their mother. Buffy's own mother had warned her that one-day her children would give her the same grief that Buffy had given Joyce and then she would appreciate just what her mother had to put up with. If Joyce had gone through this agony with Buffy, how had Dawn ever come along? Buffy would definitely not be doing this again, even if she had the choice.

By four, the waves were lasting a good minute each time and coming pretty much two or three minutes apart. Buffy had lost track of the exact time on the clock. She saw only the digits for the minutes and the seconds. Now she was sure there was something wrong with the clock, because each second couldn't possibly be dragging on for this long. She had passed the point of trying to control them, of trying to be brave or strong or trying to breathe through them or change her position or of caring whether Ethan or anyone else saw her fall apart. She had reached the point where she simply writhed on the bed with each one and screamed until her throat was raw, screamed as if she could send the pain out of her body with her voice, as if the screaming would make Ethan do something, would make him send a doctor or do _something_. And sometimes between them, she would curl up and cry and actually beg Ethan for a doctor. She was surely dying, and he didn't seem to understand that.

* * *

Ethan Rayne stood outside the door to the magic shop. He peered in the store window, seeking out one Rupert Giles behind the register. Nearly six on a Saturday, and they were about to close. Ripper seemed to be more collected today. Maybe working helped take his mind off Buffy's apparent death. But Ethan knew the cool exterior was only a front. He had been watching the footage from the surveillance cameras. He had seen the total breakdown. Mr. Longsworth had recorded it onto VHS and sometimes rewatched it for hours. His old friend was hanging on by a thread.

Ethan wasn't sure what he was doing here, except that Buffy was in bad shape. Neither Mr. Longsworth nor Sulla seemed to care one way or the other whether she lived or died. Longsworth wanted the boy, would probably let her keep the girl, but he would not be terribly disappointed if something happened during the delivery.

Watching Buffy on the monitors made Ethan's skin crawl. It seemed beyond cruel to just leave her like that for who knew how long. When she started screaming, he had to turn down the volume or be driven mad by it. The worst was when she screamed his name. No, he was wrong. The worst was when she begged him, when the proudest of slayers actually begged _him_ for help.

The others had only laughed when he suggested that they might want to bring in some help for her. He had tried to reason with Mr. Longsworth that if they brought in Dr. Michaels, she had a greater chance of delivering her son safely into the world, and Longsworth would have his prize. They refused to even entertain the idea of bringing in a doctor.

But in the end, he had convinced them to let him bring in Ripper. Not because Longsworth cared that it would help Buffy. Only because it would cause Giles more grief to attend her and not be able to do anything for her. And because if anything happened during the delivery, he would be devastated, would be forced to watch, and would blame himself afterwards for not doing enough. Ethan could only hope the man had researched this whole pregnancy and birth thing with the same dedication he put into studying demons and prophecies. Ethan could only hope the man would be prepared to deliver his own children.

He took a breath and opened the door just as the blonde store clerk was coming to lock it. He didn't recognize her, and she didn't recognize him, but she frowned at him.

"We're closing," she informed him firmly. "Unless you plan to spend a lot of money, you will have to come back on Monday."

Ethan looked past her to where Ripper was standing at the register, intently focused on a book, his pen poised over its pages. The sorcerer walked around the young blonde, and she yelled, "Hey!"

Ethan ignored her. "I've come to see an old friend."

Ripper looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. The rage in that face might have cowed him in days past, but he knew Ripper wouldn't touch him. Ethan had something the man wanted. He was holding his wife and children.

"Ethan Rayne," Ripper growled. "You always seem to know just when to show up, just when I feel the need to give someone a good thrashing. How considerate of you."

Ethan smiled. "Can we skip over the hostile banter and cut right to the chase? Your time is running out, mate, and I'm here to do you a favor."

Ripper laughed darkly. "Right. If I remember correctly, the last time you tried to do me a favor, I woke up as a Fyarl demon."

Ethan put up his hands to indicate surrender and backed up into the nearest bookshelf as his old friend advanced on him. "I did my time for that, as the saying goes. Two years in an Initiative detainment facility as they poked and prodded me, trying to figure out where my magic came from. I'd say that's more than enough penance for a harmless prank."

"Harmless prank?" Ripper was on him, shoving him back against the shelves with one hand. "You almost got me killed by my own slayer."

Ethan shrugged and tried to smile charmingly. "Funny you should mention her. That's actually what I came to talk to you about."

Ripper released him and turned towards the blonde woman watching near the entrance. "Anya, clear out of here." She didn't need to be told twice and was gone. He turned back to Ethan, grabbing the sorcerer by the throat. "You have two minutes. And then I start breaking things."

Ethan gestured to his throat and was released. He coughed for a moment and then began telling his tale, still massaging his sore throat. "Two minute version is that Buffy's still alive."

Ripper staggered back. "What?"

"Now keep in mind, old friend, that I only have the teeniest little part in this. Well, okay that's a lie. But none of this was my idea. Someone's paying me. Same someone who got me out of Nevada. Considering who else he's been willing to hire… Well, if I didn't cooperate, he would have likely sent me back to Nevada for good. In an unmarked grave in the desert with the vultures picking my bones."

Ripper's jaw did that twitching clenching thing. Ethan knew his two minutes were nearly up. "It would have been a generous end for you."

Ethan shrugged. "Should hear what they had planned for you." He grimaced. "Even I had a hard time with that one. Didn't want to watch, that's for sure. Lucky for you, plan's changed."

Ripper took a threatening step forward. "Get back to Buffy. Now."

Ethan held up his hands in defense. His two minutes were definitely up. "Okay, okay, I was just getting to that. See, my boss made her the new plan. When he found out you had put a couple brats in her— good show on that, by the way. I've always found your slayer to be quite the eyeful." Off his adversary's glare, he continued quickly. "Right, right. Anyway, my boss fancied the notion of taking your kids for whatever reason. So we nabbed her and staged the accident. Little illusion spell, so the witnesses would see her driving. Little control spell, so I could drive the car without actually being _in_ it. Blood spilled across the seats, her bracelet thrown in the water for the divers to find, and a few small explosives to blow the window out as the Jeep hit the rail and went over. We did a pretty thorough job. Had you fooled."

Ripper shoved him against the shelves again with a hand on the chest. "Where. Is. She?"

Perhaps Ethan shouldn't have been so proud at his success. "Easy, mate, I was planning on telling you. In fact, I came to take you to her. She's in labor and not doing very well. I thought maybe you could help her."

Ripper released him and took a few steps back, running one hand through his hair. "Is there a doctor with her?"

"Believe me, if I could have, I would have brought back a doctor over you. That's probably what she needs. But these men that are working with me… They wouldn't have it, and I wasn't about to argue with them. So I have to settle for you. This is some sick game with them, and letting you in with her plays right into their twisted little scheme."

Ethan could see the wheels spinning in his old friend's head. "How many did you say there were? Maybe together we can—"

"No, no, no. No good, my friend." Ethan was shaking his head. "There's only the hitman, the Boss, and a couple other hired thugs he brought in to help him get out of town with the babies. But the place is a fortress, and they all have guns. You try and go in there and play the hero…. You'll only get your slayer killed."

"If I go with you, you'll take me to her?"

"That was the plan. I come back with just you, and they'll let you in to be with her."

Ripper was pacing. Ethan recognized the way the man mentally worked through his problems. The glasses came off, polished briskly while he thought. That was a new habit. "You could take Dr. Michaels in, tell them he's me."

"No good. They know you."

Ripper sighed, resigned. He looked more like the librarian now than the rebel he had been in their youth. "Fine. But I need to make a phone call first. And you'll let me bring some things? The doctor gave me a kit, in case of emergency. There were special circumstances. We weren't sure how much time we would have to get to the hospital."

Ethan nodded. "Phone call, no. Supplies, by all means. As for time, you needn't have worried. It's been over fourteen hours. You would have had plenty of time."

Ripper paled at that and hurried to get his things. He paused at the phone, but Ethan shook his finger. "Let me just clue you in to the fact that we bugged your house and shop with cameras. They're watching us right now. The only mics we have are in Buffy's room, but the cameras will still give them a pretty good shot of you calling out. They'll assume it's to the cops. They'll likely cut their losses, shoot your slayer, and skip out of town."

Ripper acquiesced and walked out of the shop, carrying a small bag slung over his shoulder. He probably suspected a trap, but for Buffy's sake he would take the chance. They both climbed into Sulla's black Accord. Ethan put the keys in the ignition, but he didn't start it. He turned sideways in his seat to face his old friend. "First things first, Ripper old chum, they'll search that bag soon as we get there. They find anything they don't like, they won't let you take it in at all."

With a sigh, Ripper emptied the bag of a gun, a switchblade, a magic charm that could be used to create blindness, and a cell phone. Now, nothing but the medical supplies the doctor had given him. Ethan imagined that the man had to at least try. "Alright. Second thing. You've got to wear these." He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold.

"What is it with handcuffs lately?" the man grumbled, but obediently held his hands out.

"No, behind your back." When Ripper balked, Ethan reminded him, "They won't let us through the gate if I don't have you properly restrained. Without the blindfold, they'll just shoot you on sight. No good having the enemy know the location of your hideout."

Ripper turned and allowed the handcuffs to bind his hands behind him. "Will you at least call the house for me? There's a girl there, Dawn—"

"The Slayer's brat sister? Yeah, I remember her."

An irritated sigh. "Tell her I'm fine. Tell her you're a supplier or something, and I got a new shipment in and won't be home for a while. I'd rather not worry her. Oh, and tell her to ask Willow to wait 'til tomorrow before we work on that teleportation spell like we had planned for tonight."

Ethan clucked his tongue as he took the glasses off and neatly folded them into the watcher's lap. "Coded messages, Ripper? How stupid do you think I am? Wait, don't answer that. But I will call the house for you, tell the girl you're out on the town with an old friend, needing a bit of cheering up after your horrible loss, be gone maybe a couple days. Wouldn't want to worry anyone."

And then he tied the blindfold on, making sure his old friend would be able to see nothing. The rest of the trip passed in silence. Ripper was probably trying to work out their destination by the turns of the car and the sound of the road and the time elapsed. Ethan knew those tricks. He took various detours along the way.

* * *

Buffy doubled over, curled herself around the tightness that built up around the top of her stomach and ground down into her pelvis. She pulled her legs up and then stretched them back out. She clenched her fists into the towels and the bedsheets beneath, turning to first one side and then the other. There was nothing she could do, no position that would ease this terrible pressure, pressure, _pressure_, constantly getting stronger, stronger, _stronger_ every moment. She watched the clock, hoping for distraction, for focus, but it was stuck again, stuck on this moment, stuck on this pain, and it wouldn't ever move forward again. She had stopped screaming some time before, maybe hours? Time had no measure anymore. The yelling hadn't helped anyway, had only made her throat sore, and now the contractions were just too strong. She didn't have the breath to scream.

The surge was still building, still rising inside her, and every second she kept thinking that _this_ had to be the peak, because it couldn't possibly get _more_ intense. But it did. She shut her eyes and held her breath against it.

She felt a soft touch on her shoulder. She thought it was _him_. She hoped it was him. She couldn't open her eyes, couldn't focus on anything but the intensity of the pain. She clutched the hand that was offered her and shook her head back and forth, biting her lip. A soft whimper escaped her lips at the peak, and then she was coming down, her body shaking as the contraction slowly released its grip.

She collapsed back into waiting arms, breathing hard and licking her lips. She opened her eyes, and it _was_ him. She smiled, and her chin trembled. "Giles?" Her voice was raspy and raw from the hours where she had thought screaming would help. "How did you...? Am I dreaming?"

He smoothed back the strands of hair that clung to her damp face. "No, luv, I'm here. Ethan brought me to help you."

She closed her eyes again and relaxed into the arms that cradled her. "You didn't happen to bring a doctor and a whole lot of Demerol with you, did you?"

"Just me, I'm afraid."

She pulled herself tighter into his embrace. Clutching the front of his shirt, she began to cry. "Why is Ethan doing this? Who hired him, and what do they want with our babies?"

She felt his arms squeeze her closer, his head resting on top of hers. "Shhh... Don't think about that now. You need to rest, gather your strength. We'll worry about Ethan and whoever else is behind this after the babies are born."

She nodded and wiped her tears with the back of one hand. He laid her gently down against the pillows, and then climbed off the bed.

"Giles! Don't go!" She reached for him desperately.

He took her outstretched hands in his own. "I'm not going anywhere, Buffy. I'm just going to get you something to drink. Maybe some ice. Would you like that?"

She nodded weakly and released him. He had only gotten halfway to the small fridge before she sat up again and called him back. "Giles, another one!"

Her stomach was tightening again. She rubbed her hand over it, along the bottom curve of its surface, where the pressure and the pain were building up the strongest. She began shifting her legs again, pulling them up and straightening them out in a constant rhythm as the intensity built inside her, as it stole her breath away.

Giles was lightly stroking her back and arm, but it was distracting, it wasn't helping, _he_ wasn't helping. She pushed his hands away roughly. That wasn't what she needed right now. She needed... She didn't know what she needed, except that she needed this to _stop_. It was still rising and taking her with it, as she pushed herself inches above the bed, as she rose up as if to rise up out of her body and leave this agony behind her. She twisted her legs and tilted onto first one hip and then the other, but nothing she could do would stop it, would slow it, as it continued to grind her, to crush her.

"Buffy, it will be easier if you can relax into it."

Relax? He had to be kidding. The wave was still building, squeezing her until she felt it would turn her inside out. Every second she wondered how it could possibly get worse, and every second the pressure, the pain only intensified.

"Buffy, you're hyperventilating. Slow down your breathing. Like this." He demonstrated and leaned in closer. She turned her head to watch him and try to match him. She released her death grip on the bed sheets and grabbed for his shirtfront to pull him even closer. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, she focused on his eyes and forced herself to breathe in time with him. She reached the peak and exhaled in a long groan that vibrated down through her whole chest. And then it was fading. She dropped her head to his shoulder and curled her legs in beneath her, willing the damn thing to just _go_ already. After it had, after she had rested against him for a moment, Giles spoke softly in her ear.

"Has it gone?"

She nodded slightly, and he placed her back in the bed, leaving her side to fetch the drink he had promised her. She stretched her legs out, let her breathing slow to normal, and turned her head to watch him. He assembled a whole array of necessities on the nightstand beside her: several glasses of water and juice, glasses of ice, a bowl filled with cool water and washrags, and a stack of bath towels he placed on the floor beside the bed next to a bag he must have carried in with him. Every time he went into the bathroom for towels or washcloths, her heart hammered as she imagined the door slamming and locking behind him, Ethan laughing as he watched on the cameras, as he locked Giles away from her. She couldn't do this anymore by herself. She wasn't sure she could do this with Giles either.

When he seemed satisfied that he had made all the preparations he could make, he climbed on the bed beside her, lifted her head, and placed a glass of water to her lips to drink. She took a few small sips. Anymore than that, and she was sure she would be sick. He gave her an ice chip to suck on and wiped her brow with the cool rag.

She snatched his hand for the next contraction, lying on her side and rubbing her legs together like a cricket as the pressure built. He laid on his side facing her, maintaining eye contact as he talked her through it, as he helped her breathe. When it passed, she continued to hold tight to him and in a soft voice lamented, "It _hurts_."

He smiled kindly and returned to mopping her brow and neck with the cool rag. "I imagine so."

She shook her head. "No, I mean _really_ and _a lot_. How much longer?"

"I don't know." He twisted to reach behind him and resoak the washcloth in the cool water before placing it again on her forehead. "How long has it been?"

She closed her eyes and threw one hand over her face, pressing the cool rag against her warm skin. "I lost track. I know it's been four o'clock twice already. What time is it now?"

"Eight," he answered as he turned back to grab an ice chip and pop it in her mouth. "I'm sure it won't be much longer. Just take them one at a time. It won't hurt so much if you can stay relaxed through it."

She tried. She really did. For the next few hours, she tried to lay still and breathe when he told her to and focus on his voice and block out everything but his eyes. But the contractions were getting so much stronger and so much closer and she couldn't help but curl herself into a little ball around them until she would beg him: no more no more nomore nomore nomorenomore and please, Giles, just make it stop and please, there must be a spell you can do, and omigod, just do _something_.

Between, she would close her eyes and try to rest and try not to think about how soon the next one would come or how much worse it would be. Giles would make her drink more water or feed her more ice chips or wash off her sweat with the cool rag or help her into the bathroom.

The worst was when a wave hit her as they were walking back to the bed after one such trip. She couldn't move, could only stand there, leaning up against Giles and swaying her hips as her legs shook beneath her. He tried to help her breathe, but the breathing wasn't helping and the rocking wasn't helping, and the tight ball of babies was pressing, pressing, _pressing_ down until she couldn't stand it, and the wave was crushing her like a vise until she finally did scream on that one. And she could see how it rattled Giles to hold her as she screamed, but still she couldn't stop until the contraction did. And then he helped her into bed, massaging along her feet and legs, reminding her how much easier it would be if she could only relax.

Sometimes when he thought she was dozing, Buffy would catch him prowling along the perimeter of their room, looking for weaknesses in the walls of their prison, checking the lock on the door, and testing to see if he could force it open. Buffy wanted to tell him that she had done the same thing the last three or four days— _how long had it been_?— and he would find their prison just as secure as she had, but the attempt seemed to make him feel useful, so she just let him try. And then when she would feel another begin, she would writhe and reach her hands up to clutch the headboard, and he would be at her side in a moment, trying to get her to relax and breathing slowly with her and holding her hand until it passed.

By one in the morning, she was exhausted. He looked tired too, and he hadn't been at this for nearly as long as she. After one particularly difficult contraction, as she caught her breath, she asked him again, "How much longer?" When he could only answer that he didn't know, she lamented, "What happened to my short five minute labor? Doesn't this translate to like a week in real time?"

He smiled sadly and fed her more ice chips. "I think we were wrong to think that your labor would be reduced. Your slayer metabolism is focused only on the babies, helping to bring them to term more quickly. This part, it would seem, you will have to get through like any other woman."

And then the next one was coming, and she clutched his shirtfront, moaning and breathing with him and shifting her legs. Bend, straighten, bend, straighten. She bit her lip, and the peak was coming and his hands were trying to massage along her arms and back, but he wasn't doing it right, he never did it right, and she was shoving him away, saying, "Stop it, stop it, _stop it_." And she was shaking uncontrollably again, and that only made the peak worse as it washed over her. She fell back against the pillows as it released her, panting and looking towards Giles, her eyes pleading with him to save her.

That was when he suggested that she might like a bath, that it might help her relax, relieve some of the pressure, maybe take the edge off, and that she might even be able to get some sleep between. He started the water, coming back when she called for him and talking her through the next one.

When the bath was full, and she had just finished with a contraction, he helped her into the bathroom. She started to step into the tub, and he asked if she wouldn't like to undress first.

"No, if you think it will help, then I just want in _now_."

But when she dipped her foot in, it was too hot, and he started the cold water running.

Then the next one started, and she was standing there, unable to move, pushing against the wall, crying, "Giles, Giles, _Giles_!" He caught her as she slid down to her knees. She was pounding on the wall, choking on her own breath as the pressure just got stronger and stronger and unbearably intense. She shook like a leaf. Then she reached for him, her eyes growing wide as she told him, "I'm going to be sick."

He helped her to rise, not an easy thing while her body was still trying to fold her in half. The sink seemed closer for some reason, and she lurched for it, leaning over the basin as she threw up. The retching only made the contraction worse, as her stomach spasmed over the crushing, tightening, pressing wave. She moaned as she dry heaved, as he held her hair back from her face and tried to take some of her weight. She stopped as the wave left her, resting against the countertop and panting.

He helped her stand again and walked her to the bathtub. She put one foot in.

Now it was too cold.

* * *

Five am. Giles sat on the floor beside the bathtub, one hand resting against Buffy's stomach, the other stretched across the back of the tub, supporting her head. He had been able to settle her in the bath some hours before, and it seemed to help. She was able to doze now between each one, although he was fighting not to fall asleep with her. It was harder on her if she woke in the middle of a contraction without the time to prepare. So he kept his hand against her belly and roused her from her slumber at the beginning of each one.

He was feeling tired and helpless. He had read the books. He had taken the class. He had gone in to see Dr. Michaels without Buffy, when he had worried that the babies would come too quickly. The doctor had showed him what he should do, had explained how to deliver each baby, even the girl who was breech. But Giles had never done this, and though he may have owned the photographic watcher's memory for all that he had studied, he still didn't know how to help her. All his planning had focused on what to do if they came too quickly. Now he didn't know what to do for her while it was taking so long. If they were in a hospital, she would have taken drugs a long time ago, and he wouldn't have blamed her for doing so. She was in a lot of pain. Although, maybe in the hospital she wouldn't have been so terrified, maybe she could have relaxed more, and it wouldn't have been so bad.

He felt some measure of guilt for her suffering. Not just that he had gotten her pregnant. Although, that was the more irrational part of his guilt. The majority of it came from the knowledge that she was here instead of at a hospital because of him. Because Ethan and some nameless foe wanted to punish _him_, and now she was paying the price for Giles' past sins.

Her stomach tightened beneath his hand, and he gently shook her awake, murmuring her name. He held her eyes with his and tried to help her breathe, but within moments she was in too much pain to focus. She clutched his hand tightly, and if she'd still been the Slayer, she would have broken his bones. As it was, he flinched, and now he was doing the breathing for himself as well as her. He kept his eye on the clock he had brought into the bathroom, counting out the length of the contraction for her. It seemed to help her when she knew how close she was to the end. And then her legs were moving again, restlessly kicking out and drawing in, and she was turning on her side. The water sloshed out of the tub as she turned and with each kick, soaking him to the skin as it had on every one before. He might as well be in the bloody bath with her for as much as she was drenching him.

And then he could tell when she was reaching the peak, because she would start to shake uncontrollably and whimper and get irritated with him for something he wasn't doing right. This time she snapped, "Count faster!" She moaned at the top and pushed herself out of the water before sinking back down against his arm and gasping as the tension slowly left her. She released his hand, and he shook it out, flexing it gratefully, and working the feeling back into his fingers.

She asked him again, as she had a hundred times already, "How much longer?"

He gave her the only answer that he could ever give, that he didn't know.

"It's not supposed to be like this, is it? I mean, it shouldn't take this long, even for normal women?"

From what Ethan had told him, Giles guessed that she had been in labor around 24 hours. The books said 10 hours was average for a first time mom, but that 24 hours was still within the realm of normal. Thirty-six and forty-eight hours weren't unheard of either, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

He dodged the question, like he always did. "Just go back to sleep, Buffy. Conserve your energy." She closed her eyes, and her exhaustion pulled her into an immediate slumber. Her arms floated at the surface, her nightgown swirling in the water below them and sticking to her damp chest and neck.

Giles snaked his free hand over to snatch a dry towel. He tried to soak up what she had drenched him with, and then used the towel to line the side of the tub and hopefully catch some of the overflow before it landed in his lap the next time. The water was cooling again, and he should add some more hot water, but he couldn't reach the faucet without waking Buffy. It was more important to let her sleep for now.

He placed his hand once again on her belly in preparation for the next one. He wished he knew how close she was, but he had no idea how to check for dilation. He doubted that Buffy would let him even if he did. There were some things that were too personal, even for a husband.

Giles had nothing to compare this to, so he wondered, just as she did, whether other women labored this hard or this long. It crossed his mind that this might be part of the slayer package, that her powerful muscles might make labor more difficult. If her superhuman metabolism was focused on the babies, then maybe she was contracting with the intensity of a slayer. The Watcher's Diaries all had huge blanks, and none of them described their slayers' delivery experiences.

Then again, maybe this was normal for some women. Maybe it had something to do with Buffy's tiny frame. There was another possibility he didn't even want to consider. The twins could be stuck. Dr. Michaels had said it was very rare, but that "locked twins" could jam together and fill the space in such a way that neither could get out. If that were the case, then without a Caesarian, Buffy would labor until she died.

He closed his eyes against that thought and let his head fall against his own arm, beside her. He was so tired now, too, and maybe he could sleep for a few minutes also before he had to wake Buffy again. In the four hours since he had put her in the tub, her contractions had slowed to four or five minutes apart instead of the previous two or three, giving them both more of a break between.

He didn't wake in time to prepare her for the next one, and it caught her halfway on the way up. The water splashing over the side as she bolted upright was what woke him. He blinked sleep from his eyes quickly and tried to help her, but she was already doubled over, stroking her abdomen and biting her lip. Her hand slammed into the wall, pushing against it with all her might as her head shook and buried itself against her own shoulder. He tried to massage out the tension from her back and shoulders, but she yelled at him to "Stop touching me!" and he knew she was at the peak.

She came down into his arms, and he laid her back against the tub, using this opportunity to add more hot water to the bath and to get the glass from the sink counter so he could make her drink. It was orange juice this time, because she needed not just the hydration but also the energy.

She smiled at him weakly and murmured, "I couldn't do this without you, Giles."

He smiled in return and smoothed the wet strands of hair from her cheeks and face. "No, I imagine you wouldn't be doing this at all if it weren't for me."

Buffy chuckled at that before she closed her eyes and went back to sleep. He mopped the water from his lap again and curled up next to the tub, with one hand over his son and daughter. He wouldn't fall asleep this time. He would stay awake, and the next one wouldn't be so bad.

But they were getting worse anyway, and closer together again. By eight in the morning, Buffy couldn't fall asleep between them anymore. She seemed to have drifted into her own world, so sometimes he had to say her name three times before she would realize he was there. Eventually, she asked him to sing to her. She thought it would help her relax. So he sang during the contractions, sang the song he had sung to her at Xander and Anya's wedding, sang some songs by the Beatles, even sang a Backstreet Boy's song that Dawn was always listening to. That made Buffy laugh to realize that he knew the words. Giles tried to keep her laughing. The pain didn't seem as bad when she was. So he sang her silly songs, and bawdy drinking ballads, and told her lewd jokes that she couldn't believe he knew.

Within a couple hours, he couldn't keep her laughing anymore, and she was clinging to him, begging to know how much longer. She wanted him to sing now not just during the contractions, but between as well. She said it helped her to not think of the next one if he was singing. So he sang softly and constantly, even though his throat was getting sore. He sang relaxing lullabies and romantic ballads. She asked for the song they had danced to after marrying, and he sang that too, not revealing to her the pain it also carried for him now, how it reminded him of the last few days as he had mourned her.

He sang, but the whole time he kept one eye on the clock. They were three minutes apart, and then two. By noon they were a minute or less apart, lasting sometimes 80 or 90 seconds and sometimes coming back to back without a break. He knew she was in what the books called transition, and it wouldn't be much longer. He had to get her out of the tub. He didn't have the skills to try and deliver the twins underwater and in such a confined space, even though it probably would have been easier on Buffy. He frankly didn't know if he had the skills to deliver them on the bed either, but it would at least be easier for a beginner.

Giles gathered some towels in preparation and when her contraction passed, he ordered her firmly out of the tub. She was too far-gone to argue, and obeyed without question. Giles thought he could order her to stand on her head, and she would just do it.

He dried her quickly and slipped a clean dry nightgown over her, hoping to make it back to the bed before the next one. They made it only as far as the doorway before she was leaning against him and moaning. He caught her as she went down to her knees and held her and rocked her and sang to her as she began to cry and then to scream. They seemed so much more intense when she was walking or upright. They were probably stronger out of the water too.

After it had passed, he helped her up and into the bed, insisting that she drink some more juice and placing cool rags against her forehead.

Giles moved the clock from the bathroom back to the nightstand. 12:24 pm. Buffy had been in labor nearly 33 hours. But she was almost at the end. He would be a father soon.

* * *

She is not the Slayer. The Slayer could escape this, could defeat it. The Slayer would laugh and make jokes and scoff at her for being such a baby. She is not Buffy Summers either. Buffy has a past that stretches beyond this room and a future that will contain more than this pain. Whoever she has become has only this moment and the one that came before and the one that will come after. Whoever she is now has no memory of not laying here, twisting on the bed, listening to Giles sing to her, and watching as each tick of the clock slows way d o w n . . . a n d . . . t h e n . . . s . . t . . o . . p . . s . . . She hangs at the top and wonders who she has become. Buffy Summers is only the girl who did not think ahead to this moment. Buffy is the one who decided to have these babies, but whoever she is now, that woman did not choose this.

They seem to come in a steady stream of fire with no break. Giles tells her there is a minute between most of them, but it isn't enough time to even catch her breath before the next one begins. And sometimes there really isn't any break, and she can feel the next one rise before the last is even finished.

She is stuck between two such contractions, the next rising before the last has gone. Her fingernails dig into her palms even through the layers of bedsheets and towels; she is clenching them that tightly. And still the pressure builds, builds, builds, getting stronger beyond her ability to stand it. But she must stand it, because there is no choice. She cannot see the end to this pain. The intensity only climbs higher, like climbing a mountain and the top always seems to be just ahead, but you get there and realize that it's an illusion and the top is just a bit further ahead, and you continue on and on, the peak always dancing just a little further ahead of you.

She moans and begins to bang her head back against the headboard. Giles quickly puts his hand behind her and tells her she mustn't do that, she might hurt herself. She looks at him as if he is a stranger. He belongs to a world outside of this. He belongs to the Slayer and to Buffy Summers. Whoever she is now, he is outside her world, looking in. He does not feel this. He does not know her anymore.

"Keep singing," she orders him bitterly.

She doesn't know what he is singing. She hasn't known for some time. She only hears him far away in the background, and it is a small comfort. It lets her know that time is still moving forward.

And she has climbed to the peak of her mountain, her whole body trembling from the effort, her mouth open in a silent scream. But she does not scream. To scream, one must have breath.

It goes away slowly, and she is counting the seconds down as well as up, always afraid that it will begin again before it releases her. This time it does stop, and she lays back against the bed, panting and waiting, knowing she won't need to wait long before climbing the mountain again.

He says that she is in transition. She does not know what she is transitioning to. Is this the passageway that will lead to motherhood? Is this the doorway to some deeper mystery that will make her truly a woman? Will this buy her into that secret sisterhood who whisper together at parties and tell her she couldn't understand until she's had children of her own?

He tells her this is the shortest part, that it will all be over soon. He lies. He has been lying since the beginning, telling her over and over that it won't be much longer. But it has been so much longer than she could have imagined. It has been lifetimes. The longest lifetime has been since climbing out of the bath and into this bed.

It is so much worse out of the bathtub, without the water to cradle her and take some of the pressure. She could almost relax a little in the water. She looks towards the tub with longing, but he will not let her get in, and she cannot make it by herself. She hates him for making her climb into this bed.

He wants her to drink, but she will not. She pretends to sip, so he will leave her alone. If she drinks, she will have to go again. If she has to go, she will have to leave her bed. If she leaves her bed, she will have to stand. If she stands, the wave will wash over her while she does. If it comes while she is standing, it will be more intense. If it gets any more intense, she will surely die. It is already more than she can bear. So she will not drink.

He has stopped singing again and is talking softly to her while he washes her skin with the cool rag. She is so hot. She has never been this hot, and she has lived her whole life in California. One summer the air conditioner broke for two weeks during a heat wave, and still she was not as hot as now.

But the next contraction is coming, washing over her, folding her in two with the power of it. Her hands grasp the sheets again, her legs bending and straightening. He is not singing. He is talking to her, and she must focus to understand the words.

He tells her to relax. Relax, relax, relax. As if she is just being stubborn. As if she wants it to feel this bad. She is reaching the peak, wavering at the top, holding right there and shaking and thrashing and whimpering, and it's like sitting on top of the first rise for endless moments as she waits for the roller coaster to finally drop down beneath her. He tells her to relax one more time, and she snaps, "You fucking relax." He wisely shuts up, and the wave is slowly ebbing. High tide. Low tide. She wonders which this is.

And then, minutes later, in the middle of a contraction, she grabs for him and tells him she has to go right now. He tells her it's the baby she feels, but she shakes her head back and forth because it's pressing, pressing, pressing down _there_ and then at the peak she has to _push_ right now. He tells her to go ahead and push, as if she needs his permission, as if he could stop her. And the wave passes, and she is laying back in the bed once more and panting and trying to rest before the next one can sneak up on her. She tells him she can feel the baby's head right there, and it must surely be halfway out. But he only wipes the cool rag across her brow and informs her that she will probably have to push for a while yet.

She pushes on the next one with everything she has, and it is like a birdcage turning inside out. The contraction leaves her with just the fullness, and now the pressure remains even after the pain passes. She asks if he can see the head, but he answers that it will be a while yet. But it _feels_ like it's right there, she insists.

She pushes on the next one and the one after that. She keeps pushing and pushing, and it seems as if nothing is happening. She feels like she is rolling a boulder up a hill, and it keeps sliding back down as soon as she is close. The pressure remains unbearably strong between the contractions, and it means she gets no rest, but constantly shifts to find a better position. There is no better position, and he reminds her that it won't go away until the baby is out. And then another one is coming, and she grabs for his hand and pushes down into the pressure and begs the baby to come out, out, _out_.

She flops back into the pillows, gasping, and asks him what time it is. He tells her not to think about that and just rest for now. She lifts her head and demands, "Just give me the goddamn time."

"A little past three," he answers.

The number means nothing to her. She still doesn't know how long she has been pushing. She continues until he tells her it is half past four. The sounds that come from her mouth seem almost inhuman. She didn't know she was capable of such deep guttural noises and sometimes the pitch rises as the intensity rises until she is almost screaming through the pain, and he must bring her focus to him and help her lower the tone. Sometimes he moans with her, deep and resonant in his chest, and she feels the vibration where their foreheads touch and where he cradles her shoulders, and she can keep her tone deep and low as long as he is doing it with her.

Her body shakes with the effort and with the intensity. A little after five, and the pressure changes to burning, and he tells her he can see the head. Just a little more. The next one, and she is stretching until it feels like she will split open. Just a little more. Another, and still the pressure, the burning, the stretching. Just a little more. She is gasping, her energy almost gone. She is pushing with everything she has, and still it is not enough. This will never end. And she tells him she doesn't believe him. He is lying because he feels sorry for her. He has been telling her she is close for hours, and it will be hours more. But he takes her fingers and places them between her legs, against their baby's head. She can feel the wet curls of hair, and asks him what color hair the baby has. He laughs and says they won't be able to tell until it dries.

Then she realizes that it is a baby she is touching. Her baby. The next contraction comes, and she pants over it, pulling him up to her side, saying, "I can't do this. I _can't_."

He smoothes back the hair that clings to her forehead and neck. "Just a few more pushes, Buffy. You're almost there."

But he misunderstands. "No, no, no." She is still panting over the intensity of the contraction, panting so she won't push, and she insists, "I'm not ready to be a mom. I won a goldfish at the fair, and it died after like a week. How am I supposed to take care of a baby if I can't keep a stupid fish alive?" The wave fades away, and she leans against his chest. "I won't know what to do when he cries. What if I drop him? What if he doesn't like me? How am I supposed to get him to do his homework and go to bed and not run out in the street if I can't even get Dawn to listen to me? And I don't know why the sky is blue or why dinosaurs are extinct or how far down the dirt goes. He's going to think I'm stupid."

He shuts her up with a kiss and holds her chin in the palm of his hands. "You are going to be a wonderful mother, Buffy. No one gets it all right on the first try. Everyone makes mistakes. But look how much you've done for Dawn since your mother died. You have more love in you than anyone I have ever known, and that is all these babies will need from you. Don't forget, you are not alone in this. We'll figure it out together." He kisses her again. "You are going to make an excellent mother. I have no doubt of that. You can do this. Are you ready?"

She nods, and he slides back to sit between her legs. The next one comes only a moment later, and she is bearing down with a power and force she didn't even know she possessed. The head is almost there, but the wave is passing, and she must wait for the next. She moans and whimpers against the incredible pressure and the fullness and the burning and stretching and the strange sensation of having the baby's head right _there_.

The next one comes, and she releases herself over to it, surrenders and throws herself into the eye of the storm. She pushes once and the head is free, again and each shoulder follows, one last time and her child slips from her, with an unbelievable sense of release. Giles tells her they have a son and lays him across her stomach. She is crying, and when she looks, she can see tears in his eyes too. He is drying the boy with a towel, and the baby begins to cry, his skin pinking up, his little hands clasping and unclasping, his feet stretching out and then curling under him.

"Oh my God, Giles, he's perfect." She is laughing and crying at the same time, tracing her fingers over the lines of her son's feet and hands. His eyes are open, and he is looking up at her. She reaches for his father and kisses him until he is as breathless as she. Giles lays his hand over their son, letting his fingers brush against the tiny cheeks, letting the tiny hand curl around his finger. He kisses her again on the forehead, and returns to his spot between her legs. He pulls something from the bag he brought and is clamping and cutting the cord. He takes a clean towel and bundles the child in it before giving him back to his mother.

"Let me know when you're ready for the next baby," he tells her.

She balks. "Even if I could get pregnant again, I have to tell you that this is a one shot deal, Mister."

He chuckles. "I was referring to the second baby you still have inside you. Tell me when you feel the need to push again."

"I have to do it again?" she wails. "Isn't one enough?" She looks down at the baby in her arms, so tiny, so perfect. She can see a little of herself, a little of what Dawn looked like as a baby, her mother's forehead, and some of Giles' features as well. She passes the baby to his father, and he holds his son against his chest until she tells him that she feels the next contraction. He lays the baby down out of the way, and they start all over again.

* * *

5:17pm was the exact moment his son came into the world. The boy's first cry brought tears to Giles' eyes and filled a space he didn't even know was empty. He thought he did pretty well for his first attempt at delivering a baby. The child was squirming and turning pink within minutes. Of course, Buffy had done most of the work. Poor girl had labored for nearly 38 hours, had pushed for over three. She was crying now with joy, but he could still see the total exhaustion in her face. And she wasn't finished yet. Neither was he. The next one would be trickier, would require more help on his part, and he mentally reviewed Dr. Michaels' instructions as he toweled off his son. He clamped and cut the umbilical cord, knowing that if he did it wrong, Buffy would lose blood as the second twin came.

And then he was holding his son in his arms for the very first time. He guessed the boy couldn't weigh much over five pounds. It looked like he might have Buffy's blue eyes after all, but Giles remembered reading somewhere that all babies had blue eyes in the beginning.

Buffy called for him again, even as she curled up and bore down. He set the baby on the bed out of the way and waited for his daughter. Dr. Michaels had said the second twin would come much faster, in normal births within 15 or 20 minutes of the first. He was right, because in less than ten minutes, Giles could see her little bottom. He asked Buffy not to push for a moment, and from her soft whimpers and shaking head, he could tell what it was costing her not to give in to her instincts.

His heart raced, and he replayed the doctor's instructions three times before he carried out each action. He followed the curve of the baby's butt, sliding two fingers inside along the back of the baby's calves. Buffy howled as he did this, glaring at him as if she couldn't believe he was adding to her pain. He felt for the knees, eventually sliding his other two fingers inside to reach. Her eyes got even wider as he did. His thumb held the baby's bottom firmly in place, preventing any further progress.

Buffy was panting and her soft whines became more desperate. She must have been nearing the peak. He could feel her pushing against his fingers, and he firmly reminded her again, "Don't push."

"I'm _trying_," she wailed. "But you're not helping. Whatever you're doing, it feels really weird. Not to mention _hurts_."

"I'm getting the baby's legs," he informed her. His fingers gained a solid grasp on the knees, and he wriggled the legs free, unfolding the child from Buffy's body. Her contraction had passed by then, though, so he would have to wait for the next before he could finish. He cradled the lower half of the infant's body in his hand, trying to keep the weight from cutting off the precious flow of oxygen through the cord. The girl's legs curled up and kicked out in his hand, and he smiled. So far, so good.

"Buffy." She had slipped into her own world again, and he had to say her name four times before he had her attention. "This is important. On the next one, push with everything you've got."

"Instead of all the other times when I was holding back?" she retorted sarcastically.

"Yes, well, we have to get her out in one go or her oxygen's likely to get cut off. I'll help you."

Giles placed his free hand at the top of her stomach and waited for the next contraction to begin. As it started, Buffy took a deep breath, tucked her chin to her chest, pulled her knees up, and bore down. The moment she did, he pressed down on the top of her stomach with his own hand, adding his force to hers.

"Owww!" she screamed at him. "You can stop helping me!"

"Keep pushing, Buffy," he told her. "The shoulders are out. Now just the head."

He continued to push down with her, and she howled in pain. "Stop it right now! You're hurting me!" She tried to shove his hand off of her, but he held firm.

"Come on, Buffy," he urged her. "Just a little more."

One more push, and he caught the girl as she was born. Buffy collapsed back against the bed, but Giles had eyes only for his daughter.

Something was wrong.

Her feet and hands scrunched up close to her body, but she made no effort to breathe or cry.

_Don't panic, Giles_, he thought to himself. _She's still getting oxygen through the cord. You have time._

He grabbed a towel and vigorously rubbed the baby from head to toe, trying to stimulate her first breath. He swept one finger in her mouth to clear the passage. She wouldn't breathe.

"What's wrong, Giles?" Buffy asked weakly. "Why isn't she crying?"

He looked up to try and reassure her, and that's when he saw it. Blood soaking into the sheets and towels between her legs. Too much of it. He looked back and forth between his wife and daughter. He didn't know how to help either of them. He turned to the video camera in desperation. "For the love of God, Ethan, send us a doctor!"

"Giles, what is it?" Buffy's voice was panicked, but she lacked the strength to rise off the bed.

"Just lie still, Buffy. Rest." Buffy was crying, and now his son was wailing as well. But there was no answering sound from the girl. _CPR_, he remembered. _You know this. You can do this._

Giles lifted his daughter. Barely five pounds, she fit completely in both hands. He bent over her, covered her mouth and nose with his lips, and breathed for her. Small puffs of air, and he saw her chest rise and fall with each one. The cord had stopped beating, now she was getting all of her air from him. Six or seven breaths, which felt like hours, and then the baby shuddered in his hands and began to cry. She curled herself into a tight little ball and howled her protest at leaving the comfort of her mother's womb.

Giles breathed a sigh of relief and leaned his forehead down to touch hers. Her tiny hands waved through the air, and her keening wail turned into hiccupping sobs. "Shhh, Little One," he soothed. "You gave your father quite a scare."

"Let me see her," Buffy whispered.

He turned to his wife and saw that there was even more blood than just a few moments ago. He didn't know how to stop it. He laid his daughter on a clean towel, clamped and cut her cord as he had his son's, and bundled her tight before passing the baby up to Buffy. He took their son and placed him in her arms as well.

"They're both perfect," she murmured solemnly.

"Yes," he agreed, still watching the blood slowly flow from his wife. The afterbirth hadn't come yet. The doctor had said hemorrhage was a risk with twins. _Nothing to be concerned about_, he had told them, _a little Pitocin should fix whatever problems she might have_. Except that Giles didn't have any damn Pitocin.

Her legs were shaking, and her voice was faint when she told him, "Giles, I'm cold."

He took a blanket and covered her and their twins. He smiled sadly and kissed her gently on the mouth. "The afterbirth hasn't come yet, Buffy. Let me know if you feel like you have to push again."

She nodded and relaxed into the pillows, her eyes half open. Giles returned to his position, watching the circle of blood continually expand outwards across the sheets between her legs. How much blood could she lose? After all this, would he really be forced to sit here and watch Buffy bleed to death? Could Fate be so cruel?

"Giles," she whispered.

"Now?" he asked, but even as he asked it, he saw that she was looking past him. He turned to follow her stare, and that's when he saw Ethan and the two other men beside him. He hoped one of them might be a doctor, but he doubted it.

"Ethan," Giles pleaded. "You were my friend once."

"Mr. Rayne has only the smallest part in this," the older man beside him said. "And he will follow my orders at this particular moment. So let us leave him out of this conversation for right now. Let us talk, just you and I, Mr. Giles."

The white haired gentleman approached, leaning heavily against an ornate wood cane. Any hope for heroics that Giles might have had were quickly dashed when the man beside Ethan drew a revolver from his belt and leveled it at the Watcher. Ethan shrugged, as if to say _what can I do_?

The elderly man, perhaps seventy years old, more or less, neared the side of their bed. He smiled at Buffy and the twins. "Such lovely children your girl makes. I must admit you impressed me today, Mr. Giles. I never imagined you had it in you to play midwife."

The man owned a refined British accent, but Giles couldn't place the exact dialect, only that it was familiar. He had been away from home too long. "Am I supposed to know you?"

His adversary limped over on his cane, stopping directly in front of Giles. "I had been informed that watchers were prized for their excellent memories. Perhaps you should look closer."

Giles studied his opponent. The man had aged well, wrinkles across his brow and around his mouth and eyes. Thick, white hair. A build that was neither impressive nor weak. Dark eyes, long nose, and thin lips. There was nothing about the man that was familiar. At least until he smiled. The smile was all too familiar, and then the other features clicked into place as well. Giles hadn't seen the man in twenty-five years, and then only the once. But turn back the clock all those years and he would know the man on sight. He had certainly seen enough photos of the man before him.

"Everett Longsworth?"

Longsworth laughed and tapped his cane on the floor a couple times. "Good show. I knew you would remember me."

Giles heard Buffy's voice behind him. It was getting so much softer. "You know him, Giles? Who is he?"

Giles swallowed his guilt and looked away. "He's Randall's father."

"Oh," she said.

"Did he tell you how he murdered my boy?" Longsworth asked, turning and limping away. "Did he tell you how there wasn't even a body for them to send home to me?"

Giles looked over to Ethan, but his old friend wouldn't meet his eyes. "Mr. Longsworth, believe me, if my life would have saved Randall's, I would have given it. Gladly. None of us meant for that to happen. We did everything we could to save him."

Longsworth began pacing, three hobbling steps in one direction and then three steps back. "Do you know how many detectives I had to hire? How many so-called paranormal investigators? How much information I had to purchase to discover my son's true fate? The coroner's report said he was burned to ash when a fire leveled your flat. But _you_ set the fire, didn't you, Mr. Giles?" Longsworth spun and pointed his cane at Giles. "You set the fire to hide what you had done, what all of you had done. Randall was all I had. His mother died when he was five. He was my only son. I don't know how he got involved in witchcraft and black magic. I suspect you might have pressured him into it, Mr. Giles. Before he met you, he only wanted to be a photographer. To walk along a street in India or China and capture simple pictures of people in their everyday lives. Instead, you got him to drop out of Oxford, got him to involve himself in magic and demon summoning."

"We never thought it would go so far," Giles insisted again.

"But it did. And it cost Randall his life."

Giles bowed his head in shame.

"It took me over ten years to piece together the story of Eyghon. And then I searched for all of you, but you had scattered. And you, Mr. Giles, some organization called the Watcher's Council had you shielded behind so much red tape I couldn't find you. In the end, I could only find young Thomas Sutcliffe. But in the end, that was enough, or at least it should have been. I had used my twenty years well, Mr. Giles. I could play by your game as well as you. You see, I was the one who summoned Eyghon back and put him in Thomas." Longsworth laughed, stopped pacing, and limped back over to Giles. "I couldn't find all those who had killed my boy, so I summoned the demon to hunt you for me."

Giles stood and stepped mere inches from the older man's face. The watcher could feel the cold rage wash over and consume all his guilt and shame. He returned the older man's hatred now with an equal passion. "Thomas. Diedre. Philip. What we did by mistake, you have done three times over. You have become the very thing you condemn us for. Only we were never murderers, never killers. Randall's death was a tragic accident, one which we all regretted and wished we could take back. We were young and foolish and thought we were invincible. But when you summoned Eyghon, you knew what you were doing. You summoned him to commit murder on your behalf."

Longsworth's dark eyes narrowed. "Not murder. Vengeance. Justice. Poetic justice, actually, to send the lot of you to the same fate you sent my son. How you and Ethan escaped that fate was something that took a bit more research. And finding you took a bit more time."

"So now what? You going to kill me? Will that bring Randall back?"

A slight smirk twisted the older man's mouth. "No, I am done with killing. Ethan I have spared for his help in this matter. But you, Mr. Giles, were the one who actually murdered my boy. You gave up on him and put your sword through him. You see, money buys all kinds of information." Longsworth turned and hobbled towards the door, leaning heavily on his cane. He paused before exiting the room and faced Giles once again. "I won't kill you, Mr. Giles. I want you alive. I want you to suffer as I have suffered." Two other men entered the room behind him and walked towards the bed.

"You took my son, Mr. Giles. Now I'm going to take yours."

There was nothing Giles could do. The man beside Ethan had a gun pointed at him. One of the newcomers had a gun as well, pointed at Buffy. The second newcomer approached the bed and reached for the baby.

"No, please," Buffy sobbed behind him, clinging to the two twins. The hammer of the revolver clicked back into position, and she released their son.

"Take the girl as well," Longsworth added.

"Wait!" Ethan finally spoke. "That wasn't part of the deal. You said they could keep the girl."

"I changed my mind. You would do well to remember, Mr. Rayne, that you live by my grace alone. You say one more word about it, and perhaps I'll just have his wife shot for good measure."

Ethan backed down.

Their son was given to the man holding the gun on Buffy. Then their daughter was taken as well, and the two newcomers left the room, carrying the twins away from their parents.

Longsworth addressed the man beside Ethan. "Sulla, make sure he doesn't follow us."

Sulla only grinned and aimed his gun. He fired once, bringing Giles to his knees. The bullet caught him in the upper thigh, and he couldn't breathe for a moment for the pain. He leaned against the bed, holding his leg, feeling the blood run through his fingers. It was coming so fast, Sulla must have hit an artery.

And then the parting words before Longsworth and Sulla left. "Remember this day always, Mr. Giles, and know what my Randall's death has cost you."

Only Ethan remaining, and he looked between Watcher and Slayer, as if unsure what to do. "There's an ambulance coming for you and Buffy. Just hold on, mate."

Ethan walked out as well, leaving Giles alone with his wife. The door their children were taken through barely ten feet away and open now. But Giles could not make it even that far. He pulled himself closer to Buffy, still pressing on his leg, still trying to stop the flow. The pain carved its way up his leg and into his groin, down from the wound and into his calf. He reached for his slayer's hand. The blood was still seeping into the sheets beneath her, and her tears were becoming more labored.

"Giles, I'm so tired. I can't keep my eyes open."

He clasped her hand in his and laid his forehead on their joined hands. "Hold on, Buffy, just a little while longer. Help is coming."

They were both bleeding to death. She had a head start on him, but he was quickly catching up. His vision was already growing dark, and he looked down at the growing puddle of blood he was sitting in. When he returned his head to rest once again on their hands, she was watching him through half-open eyes. "Buffy, I swear to you, we'll find them." He kissed her fingers, and that was the last thing he remembered.

Next: Part 7: Half-Hearted


	7. Halfhearted

ORIGINALLY POSTED: July 31, 2001  
TITLE: The Ticking Clock  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: R (a little violence, a little sex, nothing graphic)  
SUMMARY: After my resurrection of Buffy in "Death Brings Clarity." Can Buffy and Giles live happily ever after? Or will the very nature of the Slayer tear them apart? Is it illness, a spell, or just the next level of her slayer powers?  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.  
SECOND DISCLAIMER: I must be on a songfic kick or something, 'cause this is the third part in a row. That's really odd, 'cause I'm not usually a big fan of songfic. Somewhat justified; after all, it is Lorne's karaoke bar. This time it's "Too Much in Love to Care" from Andrew Lloyd Webber's Sunset Boulevard.

* * *

Part 7: Half-Hearted

Giles woke to the steady bleeping of the monitors around him. His sensations felt deadened, as if a blanket of lead covered him. He opened his eyes slowly, as if that simple act took everything he had to give. Even still, they only opened halfway.

He was on a hospital bed, hooked up to various machines that hummed and reported his vitals in soft beeps and clicks. His mouth was dry, and he tried to swallow. That was when he noticed the tube in his mouth and down his throat, helping him to breathe. It felt strange, as if he wanted to gag on it, but it was so far down his throat he couldn't.

He couldn't turn his head, only his eyes, but he saw Xander sitting in a chair beside the window, reading a magazine. He watched his young friend for a couple of minutes before Xander noticed he was awake and pulled the chair up to the side of the bed.

"Hey, that was fast. They didn't think you'd be out of the anesthesia for at least another hour." Xander hit the call button for the nurse, and then slipped his hand into Giles', giving it a little squeeze. "How you feeling?"

Giles closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and meeting Xander's gaze again.

"That's right. You can't talk yet. Don't worry; the doctor should be in here in a minute. They had to put that tube in you while you were up in surgery, but the doctor said they could take it out once you came out of the anesthesia."

Giles gripped Xander's hand tighter, the watcher's eyes begging the question he couldn't put into words.

Xander smiled, as if he could read the older man's mind. "Buffy's fine. The others are all upstairs with her now. You were in way worse shape than she was. You lost a lot of blood. Doctor said if the ambulance had gotten there even five minutes later, you would have been a goner. As it was, they had you in surgery for like _hours_, man. You had us really worried." Xander ruffled his friend's hair affectionately, probably because he knew he would have never gotten away with it if Giles were well.

Giles closed his eyes and continued to hold Xander's hand tightly. Buffy was fine. He was fairly certain that he would be too. Now his mind was just spinning with how he would track down his children. Xander had said he'd been in surgery for hours. That meant Longsworth could have taken them out of the country by now. He would have to get on the phone to the Council as quickly as possible, pull in every last favor that anyone owed him. Longsworth couldn't have simply vanished. He had to have left a trail.

The doctor entered then, and Giles opened his eyes when his name was called. His doctor was a tall, lithe redheaded woman, who reminded him something of Willow in the way she carried herself.

"Mr. Giles, I'm Dr. Webster. I was the chief surgeon during your operation. I'm pleased that you're awake so quickly. Maybe the rest of your recovery will go as easily." She was at his side, studying the monitors beside him, flipping through the reams of paper printouts they had produced. She smiled. "Everything looks good. We can extubate you now, get that tube out of your mouth. Would you like that?"

Giles nodded slightly. The doctor moved behind his head and removed the tape that held the apparatus in place, curling one hand under his jaw and the other around the tube. "I want you to take a nice deep breath, and then exhale really hard. Okay? Let's go."

Giles did as he was told, coughing as the last of the hose came from his mouth. He licked his dry lips and swallowed. He tried out his voice, and it was quite hoarse. "I need to speak to my wife."

"What you need, Mr. Giles, is some rest," the doctor insisted. She gave him a drink of water through a straw. "You've just come off an eight hour surgery to repair your shattered femur and ruptured artery. Add in the sheer amount of blood loss, and you are quite lucky to be having this conversation with me. That bullet did quite a lot of damage. But if you listen to your friendly surgeon, who if I might say was at the top of her form when I fixed up your leg, well then in three or four months you might have only the slightest limp. If you're really lucky, maybe none."

"I don't have three or four months," he insisted. "I need to…" He swallowed again. His mouth was so dry. She gave him more water, and he continued. "Buffy…"

Dr. Webster pulled up a chair beside his bed. She leaned her arms on the side rail. "I have it on good authority that your wife is just fine. I'm sure as soon as her doctor says it's okay, she'll come down for a visit. But for right now, I would like to discuss how you are doing. Would you like your young friend to go or stay?"

"Stay."

The young redhead began to brief him on his medical condition, what they had done for him in surgery, what he could expect for his recovery. A metal plate in his upper thigh to hold in place the bone they had pieced together. A month in bed in the hospital. Another six weeks with a cast and crutches after that. Physical therapy after the cast came off. Giles was becoming frustrated. He didn't have time for this. Every minute he spent in this bed was another minute's head start that Longsworth gained on them. In three months, he could disappear so completely that no one would find him or the twins he had stolen.

When the doctor finished her recitation, he asked to speak to Buffy again.

"Have you been listening to anything I've said? You're going to go to sleep now, Mr. Giles, even if I have to give you a sedative. We don't generally allow visitors in the recovery room so soon after surgery. I made an exception for your friend here, because they were all quite persuasive. But he will have to leave as well. In a few hours, we'll transfer you out of recovery and into your own room. And then tomorrow, if I'm satisfied with your progress, you may have one visitor at a time." She grinned wickedly. "Now don't argue with your surgeon. She assigns the duty roster for sponge baths. Your behavior could mean the difference between Carlotta and Bob."

Xander raised his hand. "About this Carlotta? Is she pretty? And do you have to be technically a patient…?"

"Xander," Giles groaned.

"Right, right," he muttered. "Married man. I have to keep remembering that. Maybe Anya and I will have to play—"

"Please shut up," Giles begged.

Dr. Webster chuckled as she rose from her chair. "Five minutes, Xander, and then you need to leave him to his rest." She exited the room, leaving behind silence and the steady beeping of the machines.

"So, G-man, can I do anything for you?"

Giles took a deep breath. He couldn't believe how tired he was. Just a brief conversation with the doctor, most of it quite one sided, and he felt as if he'd run a marathon. "You can tell me how Buffy is doing."

"Fine."

"You've said that already. I was hoping for a little more detail." Giles closed his eyes and took a breath to steady his voice when he said the next. "The babies are gone. I need to know how she is coping."

"I won't lie. She's sad. I don't think it helps that they put her on the same floor with all the mommies and babies… But she's doing okay. We got the whole gang working on how to bring them home. Willow's got the laptop in Buffy's room, trying to hack into Longsworth's financial records and figure out where he might be headed. Anya and Tara borrowed books from the shop and are trying to find a location spell or something. So I think Buffy's pretty hopeful that we'll find them. Plus, she seems to be getting her slayer powers back. She's recovering from surgery faster than any of the doctors can believe."

"Surgery?" Giles exclaimed, coughing as the shout scratched against his sore throat.

"Oops," Xander said. "It's no big. Really. I wasn't supposed to say anything. Buffy didn't want you to worry."

"Xander," Giles warned. Even lying in a hospital bed, he could still make himself somewhat intimidating.

"Alright, alright, I'll spill. I guess they had a hard time stopping her bleeding when they brought her in. I think some other stuff went wrong. I don't know. I don't really get all the medical stuff. They did a little surgery, and now she's fine. Buffy says it's no big deal. She couldn't have children anymore anyway."

Giles closed his eyes and groaned. "A hysterectomy? Dear Lord, what have I done?"

"See?" Xander cried, throwing his hands in the air. "This is exactly why I wasn't supposed to tell you. Buffy knew you'd go all blaming yourself. She told me to tell you that it's not your fault. In fact, she prepared a little speech for me to read to you." Xander unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket and recited her words verbatim. "And I quote: '_Dear Giles,_'— She actually uses some more mushy words, but I'm not going to read those to you, because that would be too weird– '_If Xander's reading this to you, it means he keeps a secret about as well as old lady Thorton at her bridge game._' –Hey, I take offense at that!"

Xander glanced up at Giles watching him intently before continuing on with Buffy's letter in a singsong type fashion. "'_I want to pound it into your abnormally thick skull right now that none of this is your fault. I know you think if you hadn't been making with the Eyghon orgies, Randall would still be alive. And if Randall weren't dead, then his dad would have never come looking for you or taken our babies, blah blah bitty blah._'— She actually wrote the blah blahs," Xander added, pointing them out on the paper for Giles, who only rolled his eyes and waited for Xander to continue. If Giles only had his glasses, then he wouldn't have to sit through Xander's leisurely reading and smart-ass comments.

"'_The fact remains that Randall's death was an accident and not your fault. And that Longsworth creep is just a sick freaky guy, who probably would have gone postal over something else, like a long line at McDonalds or the rising price of gas. We just happened to be convenient. You can't blame yourself for what he did. And no one could have done a better job helping me with the whole birth thing. Dr. Michaels said I probably would have had these problems in the hospital too. He thinks you did a pretty good job. And, yay me!, I didn't even need stitches._' Ughh, I _sooo_ did not need to know about that." Xander shuddered, before composing himself enough to continue.

"'_So they had to do a little surgery. So what? It's not like I was ever going to use it again anyway. The whole one-shot-slayer-deal, remember? Not to mention that I would _never_ repeat that experience in a million years. I'm fine, Giles, really I am. Super slayer healing powers now reinstalled, and I'll be out of here way before you. The gang's all working on the Longsworth problem. We're going to find our babies, and you taking off on a guilt trip is not going to help us out in any way, shape, or form. What I need you to do is everything the doctor tells you to do and get better as quickly as possible. I'll come visit as soon as they let me. Love, Buffy._' Again, the end was more mushy, but I'm not reading it." Xander folded the letter with finality and stuffed it back in his pocket. "There you have it. If I leave you here wallowing in guilt, Buffy's going to have my head. So shape up, Mister, 'cause I'm not looking forward to having the Slayer kick my ass now that she's the Slayer again."

Giles smiled slightly. "Tell Buffy thank you for her letter and that I look forward to her visit, but that I won't feel better until we can bring the twins home."

Xander stood and took a bow. "I shall deliver your message to the lady with all due speed. God, I feel like the go-between in some cheesy romance novel."

The doctor poked her head in the room at that moment. "Five minutes are up, Xander."

Xander smiled at his friend, patted him on the hand, and then left. Giles fell asleep while cataloging spellbooks and friends in various governmental positions. He would find a way to bring his children home. He would make it right again for Buffy.

* * *

Willow stared at the computer screen for long moments. After hours of her most skilled hacking ever, she had finally found Longsworth, but Buffy wouldn't like what she had found. Now Willow knew what went through doctors' minds when they had to be all like "sorry we couldn't save your loved ones."

Buffy was stirring her Jell-O with a spoon, listening while Anya and Tara tried to cheer her up with an amusing story from the store. Dawn sat beside her in the bed, resting her head on Buffy's shoulder. Down the hall a baby started to cry. Buffy looked up quickly, and then set her Jell-O down, pushing her tray away.

"Sorry, just every time I hear it, I think…" She trailed off, playing with the edge of the blanket across her lap. "Did I tell you how perfect they were? They both had the tiniest little feet and hands. He wrapped his little hand around my finger as soon as Giles put him on my stomach. There's nothing like it, Will." Buffy sighed and flopped her head back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. "I just miss them. I even miss them kicking me all the time and making me go to the bathroom like every five minutes. I can't believe only two months ago we were trying to decide whether we wanted a baby or not. I know I used to be a big fan of the short pregnancy thing, but now I'm thinking nine months wouldn't have been that bad. I would have had more time with them."

Willow smiled sadly. "Are you feeling any better after getting a little sleep?"

Buffy shrugged. "Some. I'll feel lots better when Xander gets back from Giles' room. I just can't stand this wondering how he is. But yeah, the sleep helped. I'm still a little sore, but the slayer healing is helping with that too."

There was a pause, and then Dawn asked timidly, "What was it like? Having a baby? Well, two babies?"

Buffy kissed her sister on the forehead and wrapped one arm around her shoulder. "Not fun. And let me offer you a piece of advice, Willow. If you and Tara ever decide to have babies, if I were you, I would talk Tara into having them. Sorry, Tara."

They all laughed slightly on that, and then the room drifted into silence. No one really knew what to say to Buffy to console her. Willow knew what she had to say, but she was hoping to stall as long as possible. Her time ran out when Buffy asked her, "So how you coming over there, little hacker girl?"

"Well, I think I might have found something." When Buffy leaned forward anxiously, Willow shook her head. She didn't want to get her friend's hopes up. "It's not a good thing. Last night, a few hours after you and Giles were brought into the hospital, a private jet owned by Longsworth went down over the coast of Newfoundland while en route to England. There weren't any survivors. They pulled out some bodies of the crew, but Longsworth is missing and presumed dead. Some of the London papers already have elaborate obituaries printed for him. You know, local shipping tycoon, millionaire and sole remaining member of the illustrious Longsworth family, yadda yadda yadda. He will be missed. He names some undisclosed family friend in his will to inherit his entire estate. London society is reeling after the sudden loss of one of their own. I think one of the articles even has a quote from the Queen."

"So Longsworth is dead?" Buffy clarified.

Willow took a deep breath and met her friend's eyes. Did doctors get some kind of training for this? 'Cause really, she had no idea how to do this. "Buffy, the passengers included Longsworth's personal secretary and her newborn twins, also missing and presumed dead."

"My twins? No, I don't believe it. He set this up. He wasn't on that plane and neither were my babies."

"Buffy—" Willow attempted gently, but was quickly interrupted.

"No! They weren't on that plane. It's like he did with me and the Jeep. You guys all thought I was dead, but I wasn't. He did that so you wouldn't look for me. See, this is his style. He set up the plane crash, so we would stop looking for our babies. But they're alive. I know they are. I would feel it if something happened to them. I would. So you just keep looking, Will. You figure out where Longsworth _really_ went, and then we'll find our babies."

The others watched Willow in silence, unsure what their response should be. Willow looked down at her laptop, ran her fingers over the keyboard. "Sure, Buffy," she said softly. "Of course I'll keep looking."

If Buffy needed her to keep looking, she would keep looking.

* * *

Ethan lit the candles that circled him one by one. So Longsworth thought he could play their game, did he? He thought he could dip his fingers into the dark arts like one might audit a history course. He thought the magic couldn't touch him, couldn't taint him. But hadn't they all learned that lesson with Randall?

Ethan hadn't known the whole story until the moment Longsworth had taken the twins. He had known the man was Randall's father, had known he was out for vengeance, and had known he blamed Giles more than any of them. Ethan had rationalized his own actions as a little chaos thrown into Ripper's otherwise orderly little life. Ethan had thought it might be somewhat entertaining to watch his old friend worm himself out of his predicament. Much like the fun he'd had in turning his old mate into a Fyarl demon. After all, Ripper always managed to land on top. Ethan had been so wrong this time.

He hadn't known that it was Longsworth who had summoned Eyghon the last time, who had killed Thomas and Diedre and Philip, who would have killed the last two of them as well if he could have. Ethan knew in his heart that Randall would have never wanted his father's vengeance. Ethan knew, as Ripper did not, that none of them should bear the guilt for that death, that Randall himself would have never blamed any of them. Randall and Ethan had been much alike in their youth, and if Ethan had been in Randall's place, he would have assigned no blame either. Ethan would have seen it for what it was, for what he had always known it to be: the hand of Chaos shaking things up a bit for the mere mortals who thought they could maintain control over anything for any length of time.

Ethan worshipped chaos. Chaos was not evil. It was not good either. Chaos served both in equal measure. It was merely the natural state of the universe: to be wild and unpredictable, to let things fall apart, to unravel the threads of an event until it ends as you could have never expected. A butterfly could flutter its wings in China, and you have rain in Sunnydale. That was such a simple metaphor, which failed to convey the full breadth of Chaos. Chaos was what made you oversleep for work, and you cursed it, until you passed the accident on the road and realized that could have been you. Chaos was also what made it that other person instead, who maybe could have left five minutes sooner or five minutes later and avoided his fate. Chaos was behind battles won and battles lost. The Titanic went down because Chaos willed it. It was responsible for all the close calls as well as all the times you were caught red-handed. Bad and good in equal measure. It was sometimes called coincidence or luck, but those were just other names for the raw power of Chaos.

That was the draw for Ethan. He could start a chain of events without any idea where it would lead. If he turned all of Sunnydale into their Halloween costumes, and the Slayer became a helpless 18th century maiden, would she die that night, or would there be other factors he couldn't have foreseen? If he cursed the high school's band candy so all the adults who ate it became irresponsible teenagers, what kind of glorious bedlam might ensue? In that particular case, he could have never guessed that it would bring Ripper out to play. From the way he and the Slayer's mom had their hands all over each other in the factory, well Ethan imagined that Ripper should thank him for his handiwork. See, good and evil in equal measure.

There was another reason Ethan revered Chaos so, one that Ripper would never understand. In worshipping Chaos, Ethan paid homage to Randall and respect to the fates that took him. Ripper wanted to believe in order, in cause and effect, that everything had a meaning. Do this, and this will happen. They summoned Eyghon, and so Randall died. Thus they were all guilty. But that logic overlooked intent and denied Chaos. They never meant for Randall to die. Chaos forged his fate. Just as Ethan never intended to kill Buffy or Giles. If he had, well it would have been so much easier to slip the man some poison than turn him into a demon. That had been a tricky spell. The costumes, too. He could have cast a more deadly spell on the Slayer than give her that gown for Halloween.

Chaos was neither good, nor bad, and neither was Ethan. He served Chaos, and to those on the outside, it might appear that he switched teams an awful lot, but Ethan's conscience was clean on which god he worshipped.

Longsworth summoned Eyghon with the intent to kill, and he succeeded. Thomas, Diedre, Philip, sacrificed not to Chaos as Randall had been, but murdered by Longsworth. And now Ethan overcame his usual drive for self-protection, because now the balance had been skewed, and Longsworth's perfectly laid plans were rapidly unfolding just as he had intended. Longsworth thought he could control every piece in his little drama, he thought he could control the outcome of the events he set in motion, but he had never counted on Ethan. Ethan detested control. He did not delude himself into thinking he would ever have it.

And now, by all the gods that Ethan worshipped, he swore that Longsworth would feel the hand of Chaos. For Thomas, for Diedre, for Philip. And yes, even for Ripper. The hand of Chaos might not have been as black and white as vengeance and revenge, nor as swift, but it was much more insidious. Even Ethan wouldn't know how this would play out, but that was the joy of Chaos. In the end, perhaps Longsworth would best Ripper and cheat the watcher out of his twins. If the old man could still win after Chaos had its fun with him, then perhaps he deserved to. On the other hand, perhaps this would give Ripper the luck he needed to prevail. If so, then Ethan might find some amount of pleasure in that.

Chaos was neither good nor bad, and Ethan could not use it for either means. But Chaos was about to make things a whole lot more interesting for one Everett Longsworth. And whether the outcome of that would be good or bad was up to the gods to decide.

Ethan bowed his head and began to chant. The candles circling him blew out. He called on his god.

* * *

Emily Lochter opened her door for her nine o'clock appointment. The secretaries in the waiting room were all gathered in a group, chatting and laughing. Emily cleared her throat, and they all looked up guiltily. The group parted, and Emily saw at the center a young woman and an older gentleman, leaning on a cane. They each held newborns, which explained the gaggle of gushing secretaries.

She stepped forward with a smile on her face. "You must be my nine o'clock, Mr…?"

"Mr. Hampton," he supplied.

She looked down fondly at the baby in his arms, a little sleeping boy dressed in a darling sailor outfit, complete with tiny hat. "What beautiful babies. Are they twins?"

Mr. Hampton smiled graciously. "Yes, they are. They're my grandchildren, by my son."

Emily turned to the young woman holding the other newborn, a little girl wearing a tiny calico dress and white lace booties. The infant was awake, her eyes moving across the waiting room of the law office, her feet and hands constantly in motion. Emily smiled at the young woman holding her. "And this must be their mother then?"

"No," the older man answered. "That is what I needed your help with. Perhaps we can continue in your office?"

"Of course." Emily Lochter led them in, shutting the door behind them. Her white-haired client limped over to a chair and sank into it gratefully, resting his cane against the desk. The young woman stood behind his chair, gently bouncing the baby in her arms. Emily sat at her desk and motioned her new client to begin.

"This is Jolina, the governess I recently hired." Mr. Hampton waved at the woman behind him, and then shifted the weight of the baby in his arms. "I'd like to thank you again for seeing me on such short notice, Mrs. Lochter. It is rather an emergency. I understand you arrange adoptions?"

Emily nodded. "My main specialty is mediating custody disagreements, but sometimes that involves arranging adoptions for step-parents and the like."

Mr. Hampton stared down thoughtfully at the sleeping boy he held in his arms. "Then perhaps you can help me with my dilemma. You see my son died some months back, before he ever got to see his children. He was murdered."

She gasped. "I'm so terribly sorry."

He accepted her sympathies with a tilt of the head. "Thankfully they caught the man who did it. I guess whoever said you can't get justice anymore wasn't giving the American legal system its due."

"You're English?" she asked, guessing from the accent.

"Yes, although my daughter-in-law was American. They lived here in the States. Tragically, she died giving birth to my twin grandchildren. She was alone in the world after my son's death, so now I am the only family these babies have left."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," she said again.

"Mrs. Lochter, I need to make whatever legal arrangements are necessary for these children. I am in somewhat of a hurry. I need to return home as quickly as possible. I have, of course, brought all the proper documentation: birth certificates, death certificates, my own identification."

"Are you going back to England?"

Mr. Hampton shook his head wearily. "I have purchased a home elsewhere. The cold, rainy weather is more trying on my old bones than it was in my youth. But still, I will need to leave the country as soon as possible."

Emily glanced over the paperwork he passed her. Everything seemed to be in order. "Only a day old? I must say, you are in a hurry. And the hospital keeps sending them home sooner and sooner. Well, let's see what I can do for you."

Just then, the baby boy started fussing. Emily smiled. She wanted a baby soon, but she would have to talk Rick into taking a break from Jet Ski racing first. They could never afford a baby if she stopped working, not if he continued to pour his money into that passion. "May I?" she asked.

Mr. Hampton held out the boy for her, and she came around the desk to claim him. The baby settled down in her arms immediately as she swayed with him, just staring up at her, one little fist clenching and unclenching beside his cheek.

"You're a natural, Mrs. Lochter. Do you have children?"

"No. My husband and I have been discussing it." The boy yawned, and she couldn't help but laugh. He blinked up at her again. "My word, he has the greenest eyes of any baby I've ever seen. You truly have a beautiful grandson, Mr. Hampton. I can't get over how small he is. He can't weigh over five pounds."

"Five and a half, actually. Twins usually start smaller. He'll catch up, I'm sure."

Emily reluctantly passed the infant back to his grandfather. "What's his name?"

The white haired gentleman brushed his fingers across the baby's cheek tenderly. He said the name almost as a prayer. "Randall."

* * *

Giles finally flicked off the TV in frustration and tossed the remote onto his hospital tray. This was far worse than all those months he'd spent watching Passions with Spike. At least then he'd been able to curl up with a glass of wine and a decent meal. And he hadn't felt this ticking clock in his head, constantly reminding him that every second he was stuck here diminished his chances of ever finding his children again.

He heard a voice at the door and pulled himself into a more sitting position. Hospital beds were another thing he couldn't stand. They made rotten chairs, and he was always sliding down the raised back when he tried to sit up.

"Hey, there, visitor-getting guy."

He smiled as he watched the nurse wheel Buffy into his room. It had been two days, and apparently both their doctors felt they were recovered enough to see each other. The nurse left them alone, and as soon as he did, Buffy jumped out of the wheelchair and practically leapt into Giles' arms. He flinched slightly when she jostled his left leg, and she pulled back quickly.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine. But Buffy, should you be quite so… so energetic?" He nodded towards the wheelchair, and she followed his gaze.

"Oh, that? That's just to make the nurses feel better. I'm mostly all healed, just a little sore sometimes. Dr. Michaels is trying to figure a way to get me discharged that won't seem too suspicious. I guess they classify it as major surgery, you know three or four weeks in bed. But two days and voila!" Buffy lifted her pajama top and lowered the waistband of her bottoms. There was now just the red scar below her navel to mark the incision. "A couple more days, and I'll be a hundred percent, not even a scar."

Giles' fingers reached out to trace the five-inch line across her lower abdomen. She swatted his hand away and rearranged her PJ's back to normal.

"Hey, now," she scolded. "No guilt-tripping. I told you this wasn't your fault."

He looked away. "Buffy—"

"No," she insisted. "This wasn't your fault. _None_ of this was your fault. I won't hear another word about it."

He met her eyes again. She seemed rather determined on the subject. Her arms were crossed, and she watched him with a steely glare. He sighed. "Very well."

Her resolved expression transformed into a bright smile. Then she bit her lip and looked down shyly. "Would it be okay…? I mean I wouldn't hurt you if I just…? You know, just on your right side…?"

Giles extended one arm and motioned her up onto the bed beside him. She carefully arranged herself against his right side, her head pillowed on his shoulder and her fingers absently stroking his chest.

"You sure this is okay? I know Xander said they've got you pumped up with some good stuff. But even if you're feeling no pain, I don't want to accidentally hurt you more."

"I'm sure my doctor would frown on it, but I can't see any harm. I've missed you."

She tucked her head under his chin and hugged him tighter. "I heard you were especially missing me after I was kidnapped. Dawn told me about the Jeep in the river. My poor watcher thought I was dead again, and the babies too. She said you had a total meltdown."

He returned her hug just as strongly. "Your sister may be exaggerating things a bit."

Buffy lifted her head and studied him for long moments. Her fingers came up to trace along his brow and the contours of his face. "I don't know. Willow seemed to agree with Dawn's assessment." And then she leaned forward to kiss him tenderly on the lips. His hands slipped through her hair, cradling the back of her head and pulling her in closer. He had forgotten how soft her lips were. She tasted of hospital Jell-O, and he broke off the kiss with a laugh.

His slayer merely sighed and rested her head once again over his heart and below his chin. "I missed you too. I was going crazy locked in that room all alone. And then when it started to hurt, I was so scared of having the babies by myself. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come. I don't remember being scared after you got there."

"Good," he replied, his fingers playing with her golden locks. "I was scared enough for the both of us."

"You? I wouldn't have guessed it."

He chuckled. "You already knew I was a good poker player."

There was a long silence between them. Giles knew they were both thinking of the twins, but neither of them wanted to voice the unspoken fear lest it come true. Buffy took the plunge finally.

"You think we'll find them?"

"I know we will," he answered, also knowing that she would see his bluff for what it was. "Have the others found anything?"

Buffy updated him on their progress. She told him about the plane crash and how she thought it was another set up like the Jeep. Giles wondered about that. People actually died in the plane crash, and Longsworth didn't seem quite so cold-hearted as to sacrifice innocents to an elaborate ruse. Then again, he had held Buffy against her will, would have let her labor to death if there had been complications, had stolen the twins, and had Giles shot in the leg. Longsworth had probably only summoned the ambulance because Giles would have died without it, and the old man wanted his son's killer to suffer. If Sulla had given him a less serious wound, Giles would have been forced to watch Buffy bleed to death before Longsworth would have called for an ambulance. Or maybe it had been Ethan who called for it. The ambulance did arrive fairly soon after the others left. In the end, Giles had to agree with Buffy, and not just because he didn't want to believe that his children were dead.

So if the plane crash was a ruse, they needed to find Longsworth's new name and where he was headed. Buffy brought him up to speed on Willow's progress hacking into the estate's financial records, which had so far turned up nothing useful. Whoever the undisclosed heir was must be Longsworth's new alias. Unfortunately their prey had money enough for excellent computer security. Willow had been trying to breach it all day.

Dawn and Xander were scouring the Internet for adoption records on newborn twins. Willow had hacked them into some of the most likely private adoption firms, but there were a lot of records to pour through, and law offices didn't provide handy searchable databases for possible hackers who were looking for something specific.

Tara and Anya focused on locations spells. Most of them required something belonging to the someone you were looking for, which of course they didn't have. Tara thought they might be able to modify one of the spells to use Buffy and Giles as the key ingredient. But they would have to wait until they could sneak the group into Giles' room on a night shift, and Dawn would have to keep the staff occupied until they could finish the spell.

Buffy herself had contacted the Council and actually lowered herself to ask Quentin Travers for help in finding Longsworth. Giles gave her the names of a few of his closer friends on the Council who might also be able to help. Dr. Webster hadn't allowed him a phone in his room yet, knowing all too well that he would start working and stop resting as soon as she did. So Buffy would call them on his behalf.

Giles also told her that they needn't bother looking for Randall's father in America or England either one. Longsworth would have left the country as soon as possible and would be too easily recognized in his homeland. Giles suggested that they start looking for the man in other English speaking countries, possibly ones that had been former British colonies. When Buffy made a face, he explained to her that America hadn't been the only British colony. And then he simply sighed and said that Willow would know where to look.

After Watcher and Slayer exhausted all the possibilities for finding their children, they again lapsed into silence. Giles continued stroking Buffy's hair, knowing that she was aching for their babies just as he was, if not more so.

A moment later he heard her mutter "Uh-oh," as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Giles frowned and glanced at his slayer, but Buffy ducked her head down, not meeting his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I… umm… I think it's all the talking and thinking about our babies, but umm… I'm kinda… _leaking_."

He smiled softly. And here he'd thought it might be something serious. He pulled her closer and kissed her on the top of her head. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Buffy. It's perfectly natural."

She sighed. "Yeah, well, I'd better go back to my room. Dr. Michaels gave me something so I'd still be able to nurse the twins when we get them back."

"A breast pump?"

Buffy studied him with a puzzled frown. "You know, there is such a thing as reading _too_ many books. Sometimes it's just a little freaky that you know so much about this stuff. No one likes a walking encyclopedia."

He chuckled and brushed his knuckles across her cheeks. "I didn't hear you complaining when I was delivering the twins."

She laughed too and leaned into his caresses. "Actually, I think there was a whole lot of complaining on my part. Someday you'll have to tell me just how big of a bitch I was, 'cause really it's all a blur right now. I remember that it hurt a lot and that it seemed to go on forever. When were they born?"

"5:17 and 5:35 on Sunday evening."

She laughed again. "So exact?" Then her eyes widened. "_Sunday_ evening? It was Friday when my water broke, and maybe about 3:30 or 4 in the morning on _Saturday_ when I started getting contractions. Oh my God, I was in labor that long?"

"Around thirty-eight hours, I'm afraid."

She laid her head against his chest again. "Maybe it's a good thing that the details are sort of fuzzy. I don't remember much. I swore at you, didn't I?"

"Only at the end. And it was understandable."

"Sorry, sweetie." She gave him another quick kiss before she carefully climbed off his bed. "Well, I'd better go change before I win a wet T-shirt contest. I'll come back and visit when they'll let me. But I swear, your doctor is like a prison warden. Someone must have warned her that you were a lousy patient. She's got it figured out that you'll only rest if she gives you no choice."

He only glared at her as she climbed back in the wheelchair and rolled herself out of his room. Really, she did exaggerate at times. Over his years as watcher, he'd had plenty of opportunities to play patient, and he wasn't as difficult as Buffy made him out to be. He always followed the doctors' instructions. Well, usually. And he only disobeyed when there were matters of grave importance at stake, like apocalypses and demon sacrifices. Which, come to think of it, happened quite often. Alright, maybe his surgeon had the smallest justification for her over-protectiveness. And maybe there was a reason the Sunnydale doctors took his car keys away whenever he needed to come in after patrol nowadays. Giles had always suspected the new ER policy applied only to him.

He turned on the TV again, flipping through the channels and looking for something that wasn't a soap opera or infomercial. What he wouldn't give for a book right about now. Or even better, a phone or even, God forbid, a computer. Anything so he could feel like he was contributing something to the search for his children. He stopped on a familiar show. Passions was on. He hadn't watched this in a while, and, he rationalized, he had nothing better to do at the moment.

* * *

Friday came, and the twins were now five days old. The Scoobies were no closer to finding them, but it was Dawn's 15th birthday, and they would take a break to throw her some kind of party.

The mood was reserved and the good cheer forced, even on Dawn's part. Five days and still no lead on the twins. Buffy and Giles were beginning to despair of ever finding them, and the rest of the gang was losing hope even more quickly. They all gathered in Giles' hospital room by special permission of his doctor, who quickly ordered Dawn off his bed when she climbed up beside him. Dawn waited until Webster left before returning to her position at his side.

Buffy relinquished her usual place to her sister (it was her birthday after all) and sat on the windowsill beside Tara as Dawn opened her gifts. Dr. Michaels had found a way to get Buffy released. He had first transferred her to another ward, because staying in maternity with all the babies was not helping his patient who had lost hers. He had fudged the dates in her file as he transferred her, so the nurses in the new ward thought nothing of Buffy's hospital discharge only a couple of days later. Buffy had completely recovered from surgery, not even a scar, and in fact one would never know she had been pregnant a mere five days before. Her leather pants even fit once again, much to her delight, and she gave bountiful thanks to her slayer metabolism. She still wore baggy T-shirts, however, since her breasts were producing milk and fuller than in her pre-pregnancy days.

Now the Slayer spent most of her time in her watcher's room, sleeping on the pull-out couch and letting Dawn stay with Willow and Tara. Giles attempted to convince his slayer that she would probably get more rest in her own bed at home, but Buffy knew he liked having her around. And with his room becoming Mission Control, he was feeling more included in the search for their babies.

Now, watching Dawn open her gifts as she nestled against Giles' right side, Buffy wondered if she shouldn't let her sister sleep on the pull-out couch with her. Dawn missed Buffy, but they saw each other everyday when Buffy would drop off or pick up something from the two witches' dorm. Dawn had seen Giles maybe once since his surgery, and it was obvious that the girl had been missing him. More than that, he had been missing her too.

Presents opened, and a mess of wrapping paper strewn across the floor, and it was time for cake. Anya displayed the birthday cake for Dawn, which the ex-demon assured everyone that she had purchased, not baked. After an off-key chorus of Happy Birthday, Dawn blew out the candles, laughing as they relit. She licked her fingers and extinguished the flames, but they relit again. She glared at Willow, who gave a sheepish grin, waved her hand, and let the flames blow out.

Even as the slices of cake were handed out, and the group seemed happy, Buffy couldn't help but think of her twins and wonder if they would get to have birthdays like this. Would Willow have the chance to keep their candles lit with a touch of magic? Would Giles be able to sing to his children on their birthday? Would Buffy be able to wipe sticky frosting from each child's fingers before they squirmed away to run off and play? Would Xander and Dawn gang up on the twins in a tickle fight, or would the three of them gang up on Dawn? Buffy sighed and tried to banish the longing from her expression before Giles noticed it. Too late. He gave her a sad smile from across the room, knowing exactly what she was thinking because he was thinking it too.

Birthday over, and Dr. Webster insisted they all leave Giles to his rest. Dawn kissed him goodbye, and Buffy had a flash of the last birthday, also in the hospital, when the girls had gathered in their mother's room to celebrate not only Dawn's birthday but Joyce's successful surgery as well. They had been so happy then, so certain that Mom would recover and share many more birthdays and Christmases and Thanksgivings. Buffy tried to push that thought from her mind, but her goodbye kiss to Giles caught him off guard with its passion. She only smiled at his confused look and took Dawn home for a little musical marathon like they used to have with Mom. A little Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Maybe a little Audrey Hepburn.

The days passed slowly, and then turned into weeks. The twins were exactly a month old when Giles was released from the hospital as promised. The crutches took some getting used to, and even more so, the cast that secured his leg from ankle to groin. Buffy mocked him in his baggy sweatpants and T-shirts, calling him Gimp despite his frequent protests, even as she waited on him hand and foot.

Neither Watcher nor Slayer would give up on their twins. Giles pulled in every favor he had coming, spending long hours on the phone with various old friends from around the world. Buffy hadn't enrolled in college for the semester, not wanting to start classes at a full and unexplainable eight months along, and so spent her free days searching through whatever computer system Willow had hacked the night before. The location spells did nothing, even with Buffy and Giles as the matrix.

Buffy's birthday came and went, but all she wanted were her babies back. She knew their friends were beginning to think it was a lost cause, but she would not give up. She knew Giles would also keep looking for as long as it took, and that provided her some amount of comfort.

Half a world away, Longsworth was feeling the hand of Chaos. Subtle at first, he wouldn't notice it until it was too late. It had started at LaGuardia airport with a man reading the newspaper. He happened to be on the page with an article describing Longsworth's death in a plane crash, complete with a photo of the shipping tycoon at a charity function. He looked up in time to see the very same man walking through the terminal, looking for his gate. The traveler dismissed it as a striking resemblance, but it was enough to warrant a mention to his wife as they talked on the cell. She in turn thought it made an amusing anecdote to tell her boss, who in turn mentioned it in jest while emailing an old university buddy, a friend who had been watching Longsworth's company stocks after the CEO's death. That friend in turn forwarded the email to another friend at the British museum who had only recently begun fishing for information on Longsworth. Turns out the recipient of that forward was not only a curator of the museum, but also under the employ of the Watcher's Council. Six degrees of separation. That was how Chaos worked.

Chaos followed Longsworth to his destination as well. As soon as he disembarked, a small child snapped a Polaroid picture and then demanded five dollars for the print. The old man refused and pushed past with some amount of irritation. But a tourist took pity on the boy and gave him five dollars for her picture and another five for Longsworth's as well. When she returned home, she was perhaps a bit distracted while scanning her vacation photos and didn't notice that she had included the stranger's as well. Someone else who happened past her website noticed the photo of Longsworth holding a small baby, and soon that found it's way to the Watcher's Council also.

Chaos continued to unravel Longsworth's carefully laid plans even as he settled into his new home. The British ambassador heard of the wealthy Englishman who had bought a mansion overlooking the Mandovi River. He decided to pay a visit to his fellow countryman, perhaps hoping for some tea and hospitality and maybe even a little payoff for favors that could be done or strings that could be pulled. The ambassador was quite surprised to find that Mr. Hampton would not see him, and he complained loudly about it to his friends back home. Sure, he could hear the baby crying in the background, but that didn't mean the man couldn't agree to see him some other time.

Chaos was not swift, was not the sudden light bulb over the head and "Ah-hah!" of certain knowledge. Chaos could not arrange an anonymous package delivered to the Slayer's door or a neon sign above Longsworth's house, announcing: "Stolen children here!" But over time, like water carving through rock, Chaos could make itself felt. A butterfly flaps its wings in China, and you have rain in Sunnydale. A phone call, a photo, and an ambassador, and five weeks after their children were stolen, Buffy and Giles had the airport they departed from, their eventual destination, and Longsworth's new alias. A day after that, and Watcher and Slayer were on a plane to India to claim them.

Buffy hadn't wanted Giles to come. She thought Willow or Xander would be more useful, since Giles had only recently been released from the hospital and wouldn't be very mobile with a full leg cast and crutches. But he had insisted, saying the twins were his children too and he would see them safely home. It was his responsibility. He had brought Longsworth into their lives. Buffy wondered if she could ever free her watcher from the guilt of Randall's death.

He did reluctantly agree that having Willow along would be helpful with the computers and the more difficult magicks that he couldn't do. Buffy added that another pair of working legs couldn't hurt either. So the young witch asked all her professors for time off, which was granted, and joined her two friends on their mission.

Willow provided a necessary buffer for the newlyweds on the long plane ride and even longer layovers. Giles could find no comfortable position to sit in, and Buffy finally convinced him to rest his plastered leg across the laps of his two traveling buddies. They hit turbulence during the final nine-hour leg from Paris to Bombay, and he actually reached for the painkillers he hadn't touched since before his release. That was when they realized the just-in-case medication had disappeared, was probably stolen, sometime during their layover in France. Buffy's poor watcher was miserable for the duration of the flight, consuming several glasses of Scotch in lieu of the narcotics and gritting his teeth through every bump.

Buffy teased him by suggesting he do the Lamaze breathing and just _relax_. This was the part where Willow made a wonderful buffer, because Giles was not at all amused by Buffy's remarks, and in fact was more crabby than his slayer had ever seen him. She wisely held her tongue and withheld her "I-told-you-so"s and her "you-should-have-stayed-in-Sunnydale"s. By the time they were an hour from Bombay, Giles had turned very pale and was white-knuckling his armrest. Buffy took pity on him and rearranged their seats so she could sit behind him and massage the tension from his neck and back. His leg rested mostly in Willow's lap now, and she kept him distracted with inane chatter, factoids about India from a guidebook, and questions about spells she already knew the answers to. The plane set down roughly, and Giles gasped as each bump on the runway jostled his leg against Willow's lap. Buffy sent the witch ahead to refill his medication as she helped her watcher onto his crutches and off the plane.

Bombay was hot and crowded. If Buffy had thought the LA malls were crowded during the Christmas season, that was nothing compared to the press of people surrounding them in Bombay. She was somewhat concerned to learn Giles didn't speak Hindi, but he assured her that enough people spoke English for them to get by.

The threesome made their way to a small outdoor café near the airport, where they rested, drank chai, and ate samosas, while waiting for Giles' medication to take effect. He seemed to be right about the English, because the waiter was able to talk with them quite easily, but Buffy wondered if that would be the case further from the airport. Willow started her laptop, pulling up a map of the area and planning out their next step. They would take a bus a few miles to the domestic airport, where they would hop a plane to Panaji, Goa. They had reservations in a fancy hotel that happened to be directly across the river from Longsworth's mansion. With binoculars, they should be able to keep watch over the estate. Buffy wanted to just storm the place and take their babies, but Giles talked her into the more cautious approach.

If her poor watcher had thought the airplane turbulence was bad, well it was nothing compared to bouncing along unpaved streets in an overloaded bus with a score of children running up and down the aisle, occasionally tripping over his cast until Buffy thought he would hit the roof. They reached the smaller airport in plenty of time for their flight, and Giles took another dose of painkillers. He had been doing fine without them back in Sunnydale, but after over 42 hours in airplanes and airports and rickety old buses, Buffy was ready to ask him to share, which meant he most assuredly needed them. Broken legs were not meant to travel.

They arrived in Panaji and took a cab to the hotel, again bouncing over every pothole and then parking with one tire right up on the curb. Situated on the west coast, near the Arabian Sea, the air over the water cooled the city to a much more comfortable temperature than Bombay. They drove past the beachfront and numerous five-star hotels, which seemed to cater to the European tourists. Only about half the guests in the hotel lobby were Indian.

After checking in and finding their room, Buffy sent her watcher immediately to bed to recover from their long journey. She and Willow sat at the window with a pair of binoculars, watching for Longsworth and the babies on the other side of the river. Buffy screamed when she caught sight of one. A young woman was walking back and forth across a third story window, holding a squalling baby in her arms. Giles pulled himself out of bed and hobbled over to have a look as well. Buffy saw the smile light his face when he saw their child through the binoculars, and she pulled him down into a passionate kiss, which sent Willow out of the room to supposedly fill the ice bucket.

They took turns keeping watch, writing down who they saw in what windows and what times they saw them. By day three they had a rough idea of the layout of the house, it's daily routine, and the number of staff they might expect to find. It was time to claim the twins.

The plan was to sneak in at night while most everyone was in bed, take the twins quietly, and leave undetected. They had seats booked on the very next plane and would be halfway home before Longsworth would realize what had happened. It helped that the Watcher's Council had provided the necessary papers, so no one would question that the babies were theirs when they boarded the plane.

The Watcher rang up an old friend at the British embassy who was able to arrange a meeting with a black-market weapons dealer. Buffy and Giles obtained shortswords and tranquilizer guns for both of them. Willow had her magic, but they bought a tranq gun for her as well. Giles also purchased a 9mm similar to the one he had at home for himself. Buffy worried about what he intended to do with it, but he assured her it was only for show.

They waited in the hotel room until night had fallen. Willow cast the first of her spells. She slid one hand against the bare skin of Giles' hip and the other against his ankle. Buffy poured a circle of sand around them and lit candles in the four corners of the room. A few words uttered in Sumerian, and then the sand poofed up into the air around them, disappearing like red mist and leaving the watcher's leg restored as if he had never been shot. Willow stepped out of the room to pack the last of their supplies, while Buffy cut the cast off her husband's leg. He stretched gratefully and itched along the length of his leg before pulling on pants that were actually real pants and not sweats. Buffy wished the spell could last longer, but as her watcher had often reminded her, the magical and medical weren't meant to mix. A reprieve of a few hours would be all he needed, and in the long run, it would probably be better for him to heal naturally.

They donned dark clothes, strapped on their weapons, and headed out the patio door and down to the Mandovi River. They had a boat waiting, and glided silently across to Longsworth's mansion. They docked the small boat beside Longsworth's larger one and crept up to the back fence of the property. Willow cast the second of her spells, dimming their presence so they could slip like shadows past the few sentries along the gate and hallways. They left her in an empty sitting room, focusing her energy to maintain the spell that would keep Watcher and Slayer unseen and unheard.

They found the third floor nursery in minutes, Giles immediately striding across to one crib and lifting the baby from it. But Buffy was looking around at her surroundings. The nursery was decorated in reds and blues, with a firetruck motif in all the trimmings. But there was only the one crib. Ethan had told her Longsworth wanted the boy. Now where would she find her girl?

"Buffy?" Giles whispered.

"Where would he put the second nursery?" she asked.

That was when he noticed that there was no second crib behind him. He handed her the sleeping boy, telling her to go right while he went left, and they would search all the rooms until they found their daughter. Buffy only hoped that Willow's spell would be strong enough to keep them unseen and unheard as they split up and frantically opened and shut doors along the hallways of the third floor and then the second. The baby began to fuss, and Buffy wondered if the spell would be strong enough to contain the sound of a screaming baby.

"Shhh, little Rabbit," she soothed. "Please don't cry. Mommy has to find your sister before the whole house wakes up and catches us. If you're a good boy, Mommy will give you anything you want."

Buffy reached the end of the second floor hallway and still no little girl nursery. More importantly, Giles hadn't come down to the second floor yet. It couldn't have taken him that long to search the other rooms on the third floor, and if he had found their daughter, he would have come down by now too. A sick, sinking feeling settled in the bottom of her stomach, and she raced back up the stairs to three and down the left hall where he had gone.

She entered an elaborate master bedroom, with gold plated doorknobs and a mahogany four-poster bed with silk sheets. The burgundy sheets spilled onto the floor where Longsworth knelt, a 9mm pressed to the back of his head and Giles' finger hovering over the trigger.

Buffy held their son close to her chest and whispered her watcher's name. He didn't acknowledge her presence, but spoke softly to the old man at his feet.

"Where. Is. She?"

Buffy could see the way his jaw clenched, like when he had put the sword through the mayor, like when he had pulled Ethan from the library table by the scruff of his neck, like when he had faced Angelus in the factory. He was not Giles now. He was Ripper through and through. Longsworth's eyes found hers, pleading with her, his voice shaking as he answered the man holding a gun to his head.

"I told you already. I didn't keep the girl. I only wanted the boy. The girl never even came to India with me. She's not here."

"Tell me where I can find her." Ripper's tone was steel, and he pressed the barrel closer, forcing the old man to bow his head.

"I don't know. That's the truth. I don't know where she is. She was adopted, and I don't know where she is."

Buffy could see her watcher's expression harden, smoothing into the same stone mask he had worn while suffocating Ben. "How unfortunate for you," he said.

She stepped forward and spoke urgently. "No, Giles, you're not going to do this. You're not what he thinks you are. You're not a murderer. You're not a killer."

"What would you know?" he snapped. "I have killed, and I can kill again."

"Randall was an accident. Ben was war. I know about Ben. I was in your dream, remember? Killing Ben was survival, was the only way to defeat Glory. If you pull that trigger, Giles, this will be murder. You can't do this. You don't have it in you. You have too much to lose. You have me. You have our children." Buffy glanced down at the squirming baby she held tightly in her arms. She continued desperately, trying to reach her husband past this dark remnant of his rebellious youth.

"What do you want them to see when they look at you? Because the man I see, the man I love, is a hero. You save people night after night. You save the _world_ like other people make a sale. You keep me alive battle after battle. You _are_ a hero, Giles. That's what I want to tell our children. I don't want them to _ever_ find out their father shot a man through the back of the head like judge, jury, and executioner. No matter how much you or I might think he deserves it. You do this, and you'll be _exactly_ what Longsworth thinks you are. You'll be a killer, and you won't be the man I love anymore."

The gun wavered, and then finally lowered. Longsworth began to weep like a child, twisting the sheets between his hands and rocking with his fear and grief. Giles' hand was trembling, and the pistol fell to the ground. Buffy quickly retrieved the 9mm, slipping it into the back waistband of her black leather pants. She pushed the baby into Giles' shaking hands, admonishing him not to drop the boy.

"Make sure Willow's okay. I'll catch up in a minute, and we'll go."

"Buffy—" he protested, but she cut him off.

"I have to tranq him, or we'll never make it back to the hotel, let alone out of the country. I'll be right behind you. Make sure Willow's ready to go."

She shoved him towards the door, and he left. She turned her attention back to Longsworth, who was still blubbering on the floor, his head dropped in his hands. She pulled out the tranquilizer gun and prodded him with it. He jumped back against the bed, once again terrified for his life. She just let him believe it was the 9mm she poked him with.

"Everett Longsworth," she murmured coldly. "Do you know who I am?"

The old man merely swallowed and nodded.

"No, not his wife, not the mother of his children. Do you know who _I_ am?" It was clear from his blank look that he had no idea where she was going with this. She knelt down to bring herself level with him, the tranquilizer gun still pressed against his side. "You knew he was a Watcher. What did you think the Watcher's Council watched? I'm surprised Ethan never told you. You see, I'm not just his wife, I'm his Slayer."

Longsworth's brow furrowed. He swallowed, still breathing heavily, still finding no voice to respond to her. Buffy grinned at his fear. She wouldn't kill him, but he didn't know that.

"You don't know what a Slayer is, do you? One girl in all the world with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, to slay the demons. My job description pretty much says I kill evil things."

His eyes widened.

"Yeah," she confirmed his fears. "I'd say a man who could kidnap a pregnant woman and steal her babies probably qualifies as evil. And you know what the best part about being the Slayer is?" Longsworth shook his head meekly, and she answered her own question. "I don't need this gun to kill you. I'm strong enough to rip your limbs from your body with my bare hands." She stroked his chest softly with one finger. "I could push my hand right through your chest and pull out your heart while it was still beating. I did that once, only to a demon, and it wasn't a heart so much as a uranium power core, but hey, it should work just the same."

Longsworth was shaking, and he found his voice. "Please, don't hurt me. I loved your boy like he was my own. I would have given him everything. I only wanted a child to love as I loved Randall."

"No," she corrected. "You wanted to hurt Giles like you imagined he deserved. You want a kid? Adoption, buddy, look it up. You thought Giles killed your son, and you were after vengeance. Let's not try to sugar coat this. Funny thing is, at the end of the day, you deserved everything you were trying to do to him. Giles isn't the man you think he is. He's a good man. He has honor and courage, two things you wouldn't recognize if they were standing in the same room with you. You want to see evil? You want to see a killer? Go look in the mirror."

"Please don't kill me," he whispered even softer.

Buffy's eyes held only contempt. "And a coward besides. Not so big and tough without your hired goons? Don't wet yourself. I'm not going to kill you. But what was it you told that creep before he shot my watcher? Oh yeah, make sure he doesn't follow us. I gotta make sure you don't follow us. So which one is your good leg? Or should I just break them both?"

Longsworth looked panicked and tried to pull himself back tighter against the bed. Buffy halted him by grabbing one knee and dragging the older man closer to her. Her own knee came up with the force of a slayer and smashed the femur like a twig. Randall's father howled in pain, and Buffy wondered if she hadn't gone too far. She hoped Willow's spell would prevent anyone else in the house from hearing the old man's screams.

She leaned over him. "That was for Giles. This is for me." She aimed the tranquilizer gun and shot him directly in the groin. He curled into a fetal ball, and as the tranquilizer took effect, she warned him, "You come near me or mine again, and I won't need to stop Giles from killing you, because I might do it for him. You try to take my children again, and I _will_ make an exception to the demon-only slaying rule."

Longsworth was slowly relaxing, his eyes drifting closed. Buffy made sure she was the last thing he saw. She waited a moment longer to be sure he was unconscious, and then replaced the tranq gun in her waistband beside the 9mm. She dashed out, closing the master bedroom door behind her, and raced down to the sitting room to Willow, Giles, and her baby.

They were waiting for her, Giles absently swaying to keep the baby quiet, Willow still focused on her spell, and the baby solemnly staring up at his father. They slipped out of the estate as quietly as they had entered. They reached the boat docks, Buffy coming to a sudden stop when she recognized the man sitting beside their boat.

Sulla stood, stretched his long legs, and smiled at Giles. "Look at you, up and about. I thought I had messed you up more than that. Maybe my aim's not as good as it once was. Maybe I should get a second chance."

He reached behind him, but Buffy beat him to the draw. She held the 9mm steady, even though her insides were quaking. She had no idea how to fire the thing. Giles had never trained her to use a gun. She didn't know if the safety was on or if she needed to do anything before pulling the trigger. She hoped Sulla wouldn't notice her inexperience.

"Hands up," she ordered.

He obeyed with a smirk. "I saw this little boat pull up and wondered who was paying us a visit. Thought I would come check it out, wait for the owners. Never imagined I'd see any of you again. Now tell me, little girl, you really gonna shoot me? I don't think so. Especially not before I call the guards to come drag your sorry asses back in to answer to the Boss."

Buffy knew if he drew attention to their flight, they would likely lose the baby as well as their lives. She glanced over at Willow to make sure the witch was still holding her spell. Willow's eyes were half closed, her lips chanting silently. Buffy sighed in relief, knowing that they would still be unseen and unheard by anyone who wasn't specifically looking for them.

That moment's distraction was all Sulla needed. He lunged forward and disarmed Buffy, sending the gun clattering to the dock and over the side into the water. Giles stepped back, pulling Willow with him, shielding both her and his son from the battle. Buffy smiled. Sulla had made a gross miscalculation if he thought he could best the Slayer in hand-to-hand combat. Then again, he was probably as clueless as Longsworth on that point.

Sulla tried to hit her, and she ducked. Again and again. She blocked some of his blows, and he clearly felt the impact. He shook out his arms, his eyes widening as he looked at her in surprise. Buffy merely shrugged as if she had learned that from a few karate classes. He came at her again, and she danced around him easily.

"Stop playing with him, Buffy," Giles scolded. "We don't have the time."

"You heard him," she said to Sulla. "I can't play anymore. I have to go home."

She took his next blow in her palm, and then spun to deliver a right cross right across his jaw. Sulla dropped to the dock. But he was still conscious, his hands rubbing the mark she had left. Buffy had pulled her punch. She kicked him once in the stomach, and then leaned over to disarm him of his own gun, which winked out at her from its holster across his back.

"I have to warn you, I've never used a gun before. So I'm really hoping I don't accidentally shoot you. 'Cause that would be a bad thing." She casually aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. It fired. Hmm… guess there wasn't anything to it after all. "Oops. And right in the leg. That's gotta hurt. I guess Giles could tell you about that. If you get a good doctor, in three or four months, you might not even have a limp."

"Buffy," her watcher reminded her, "we need to go now."

She tossed the gun in the water where hers had fallen while Giles helped Willow into the boat and then passed her the baby. Buffy withdrew the tranquilizer gun and knocked Sulla out before climbing into the boat herself. Willow held the spell until they could safely row the distance back to the hotel. Giles continually watched the coastline to see if anyone had heard the gunshot, but Willow's magic was good.

Giles chided his slayer for her impulsive act. "You shouldn't have done that. You might have ruined our entire escape." This coming from the man who was going to blow Longsworth's brains out. "How many times have I told you? Plunge and move on, plunge and move on. You should have taken the first opportunity to knock out your opponent and been done with it. And I can't believe you pulled your punch."

"Yeah, yeah," Buffy agreed, as she rowed in time with him. "I guess I just had this compulsion to shoot _him_ in the leg."

Giles gave her a wry grin and let the subject drop.

"I tell ya," Buffy added, "If we don't find our daughter, I'll be wanting to come back here and break _both_ his legs."

Giles bowed his head, but Buffy still saw the flash of guilt cross his face. "We'll find her," he whispered softly and said not another word the rest of the way across the river. He seemed to have drifted into his own world, rowing even after the boat hit land. Buffy had to call his name three times before he lifted his head, and even then he wore a dazed, defeated expression. Willow took the baby up towards the hotel, and Buffy had to urge Giles to follow. She led him up the embankment and through the patio door of their room.

"Hey, Will, can you go in the other room and call an ambulance for Sulla? Maybe tell them you saw something suspicious through your binoculars?" Willow nodded, and Buffy gave her watcher another look over. "After that, could you give us some time alone?"

"Sure, little Rabbit and I will be in the other room. But don't forget: I can only hold Giles' spell another hour maybe at the most. And our plane leaves the hour after that." The witch closed the door to their adjoining hotel rooms behind her, still carrying the baby in her arms.

"Giles?" Buffy sat him on the bed and softly stroked along his forehead and cheeks until his eyes focused on hers finally.

"I've failed you," he murmured. "She's gone."

"No, no, no." Buffy placed feather kisses along his cheeks and jaw. "We found our son. That's something. That's a start. And you didn't kill Longsworth. That's a good thing. Tomorrow you'll agree with me on that. And we'll find her, Giles, we will."

He bowed his head to rest against hers. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and reassured him, "I love you, Giles, and you have never failed me. You have been more than I could have ever hoped for."

But there was only one way she could prove her love to him. She coaxed him back against the bed and slowly unbuttoned his black shirt. His hands stilled her progress.

"Buffy?"

She smiled as she leaned over to place a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Willow can hold the spell for another hour, and she's watching the baby. It would seem like such a shame to waste two perfectly good legs. Who knows when you'll get another chance to be on top?" She kissed him on the mouth, and he let her finish undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"It has been a long time," he finally conceded.

They came together with a quiet desperation. They carved out this small window of time and made it theirs, trying to forget in each other all the pain that had come before and all the sorrow that would come after. He moved above her, each touch a promise, each kiss a vow. He would find her, he would find her, he _would_ find her. He swore it, not in blood, but in heat and sweat and passion. Buffy opened beneath him, and welcomed him inside her. She gave him absolution with her body and redemption with each kiss. Time stood still for their lover's dance until their twin cries of release echoed the cries of their single twin in the adjoining room.

They remained entwined in their embrace for long moments, and she could feel him shaking above her. She said it again and branded it into his skin with a kiss on each word. "You. Have. Never. Failed. Me." She squeezed him against her possessively, showing him just a touch of her slayer strength. "You are my Watcher, my husband, my _Giles_. You are everything that Longsworth thought you weren't, and everything I thought you were." She paused. "Did that make sense? It was supposed to be all dramatic, but I think it just came out confusing."

He chuckled and looked down on her. "How do you always do that? Make me feel as though everything will be alright? I believe that's supposed to be _my_ job."

She combed her fingers through his hair and gave him one of her hundred-watt smiles. "It is your job, and you do it very well, Mr. Giles, but I should get to return the favor every once in a while."

He leaned down and kissed her one last time, sighed, and resigned himself to his fate. "Come on, Mrs. Giles, time to return me to my plaster prison before the spell breaks and my leg with it."

She dressed quickly and threw him his black button-down to slip back on. Then she rolled him onto his back and pulled out the supplies they had bought. She had watched the doctor do this the first time, and it had looked extremely easy. Ha. Things that looked easy never were. She focused intently, but tried to hurry, because with their little lovemaking delay, the hour was almost up. The baby cried periodically in the other room, and she knew she would have to feed him soon as well.

When she had finished, the cast was a lumpy mess, but it would hold until they got back to Sunnydale and Dr. Michaels could redo it for them. Dr. Webster would have a fit if she knew her patient had taken it off. Buffy turned to Giles with a proud smile, and that was when she noticed the mischief he had done while she was working on his leg. He had used her distraction to plaster up the toes that rested so unsuspectingly on the bed beside him.

"Giles!" she scolded.

He only grinned and said, "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever notice. You were quite absorbed in your work. Although, no one would know it to look at the finished product."

"Hey!" she protested. "I'd like to see you do better. Especially on your own leg."

He gasped, stiffened suddenly, and curled his fingers into the sheets.

"Giles? Are you okay? Is the plaster getting too hot?"

He exhaled slowly and shook his head. "No, the spell broke. It caught me off guard is all. For a moment it felt like getting shot again, but it's starting to fade. Not bloody quick enough, though."

"Does it hurt?"

He glared at her. "Why don't I shoot you in the leg, and you can tell me if it bloody well hurts?"

"Okay, okay," she said, fishing through their bags for his painkillers. If he would admit to it, then he must really be hurting. She smiled wickedly. "Just breathe, honey. _Relax_."

He rolled his eyes. "Not funny."

She handed him the prescribed dosage plus one, and opened a bottle of water for him. Just then, Willow knocked on the door. Buffy quickly covered her watcher with a sheet and told her friend to come in.

The redhead was bouncing the baby in her arms, but he was still wailing. "I can't trick him with the finger in the mouth anymore. He's got it figured out that there's no milk there. And I think he's pretty hungry." She looked towards Giles. "I hope you guys finished with umm… _everything_… You know the recasting. I tried to hold the spell as long as I could, but it was starting to give me a nosebleed."

Giles smiled weakly. "I appreciate the time you were able to give me."

Buffy claimed the screaming baby from the witch. He settled down slightly in her arms, and she smiled at Giles. "Look, he calmed right down when I took him. Think he remembers that I'm his mom?"

"Of course he does," Giles answered. "He lived inside you for nine... well for nine weeks. Granted, nine months does sound more impressive, but he still knows you."

Buffy sat on the bed beside Giles and laid the baby across her knees. He curled up tight and started to fuss again, making plaintive little wails and turning his open mouth towards his father when Giles stroked the boy across one cheek. She unbuttoned the top few buttons of her shirt, unhooked her bra, and held the baby to her breast, more than a little nervous about doing this for the first time. A breast pump was not a wriggling, screaming baby. What if she couldn't do it right? What if he wouldn't nurse after over five weeks of bottle-feeding? Her fears were quickly quelled when her son latched on and began nursing enthusiastically. His eyes closed, his lashes still wet with his tears.

Buffy touched him along the apricot soft skin of his cheeks and arms and little kicking legs. "Look, Giles," she whispered. "It's working. He's eating."

Giles laid one hand over the baby's head, and she leaned back to rest against her watcher's chest. She couldn't believe this tiny person in her arms was _hers_ and she would get to take him home this time. Willow left quietly to pack the rest of their things, and Buffy continued to touch her son and examine him from head to toe as he nursed. Ten little toes attached to two little feet that pushed against her hand when she tickled his little arches. Ten tiny fingers that wrapped around hers with a strength that made her giggle. Two bright eyes that blinked up at her in solemn contemplation.

"Giles, look," she whispered. "He has your eyes. The exact same green. He's absolutely perfect."

"Just like his mother," Giles whispered in her ear, and then kissed along the nape of her neck.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

He nodded, wrapping his arms around both wife and son. "I think the side effects of the spell faded. And the drugs helped too."

The baby finished nursing, and Buffy passed him to his father, where he snuggled contentedly and started to drift asleep. She did up her bra and shirt and packed the rest of their belongings quickly, calling for Willow to help her carry everything down to the lobby. She left the witch to babysit their luggage as the Slayer made one last trip to collect her menfolk. She helped Giles into a pair of sweats and carried the baby as he hobbled along on his crutches behind her.

A cab to the airport with a stop on the way for basic necessities like diapers, washcloths, and some baby clothes and blankets. Again the short flight to Bombay, the bus to the international airport, and then a long wait for their plane home. Giles tolerated the travel somewhat better, pleasantly numb from the narcotics and holding his baby boy for most of the time. He stayed with the luggage and the baby while Buffy and Willow went in search of the baby supplies they hadn't realized they'd forgotten until the plane ride to Bombay.

First on the list were pacifiers. Buffy had needed to nurse the baby the entire flight to keep him quiet, which was easier done on a 45-minute plane ride than a nine-hour one. Giles had said the constant nursing probably kept the baby's ears equalized while the pressure changed. Buffy hoped a pacifier would do the same trick, or else they and all their fellow cabin mates would likely suffer through hours of baby's screaming.

She returned to find her watcher singing softly to the fussing baby, and he immediately passed the boy to his mother on her arrival. Buffy frowned, but Giles insisted the child was hungry, which he wasn't, but he calmed down as Buffy strolled around the terminal with him. She stopped at a payphone to make several calls and update everyone on their progress. The baby started fussing again as she talked to Dawn, and her sister asked Buffy to put the phone closer so she could hear the cries more clearly.

"A couple weeks from now," Buffy said, "and you'll be a little less excited to hear him cry."

Her flight was being called, and she had to hang up and rejoin the others.

* * *

The plane set down, and Giles woke up, glancing around at the other passengers in confusion. He couldn't have been asleep for that long. He looked down at his watch; they had only left Paris two hours before. "Buffy, why have we landed? We haven't been in the air more than a couple hours."

Buffy smiled sheepishly, and he began to get suspicious. "Willow arranged a stopover when she booked the tickets."

He glanced over at the redhead, but she was concentrating on trying to make the baby laugh, to the purposeful exclusion of his questioning stare. Giles focused again on Buffy. "Where?" he asked, with some amount of dread.

"Spain."

Giles groaned. "That's hardly a stopover. That's a set up. Possibly even a conspiracy."

Buffy stood and passed him his crutches. "Dad's going to hang out in the airport with us for a little while and meet his grandson."

"How little of a while?"

She took their son from Willow before answering his question very softly. "Five hours."

Giles pulled himself up onto his crutches. This was likely to be the longest part of their 46-hour journey home. And her father was very likely to blame him for the missing granddaughter. Not that Giles didn't think he deserved the blame. He just didn't need Hank of all people to remind him of his failure.

They waited their turn to disembark. Buffy started to bounce the baby in her arms to settle his fussing as Willow gathered their carry-ons. Just as they started down the aisle, she told her watcher, "Maybe just before we get back on the plane, I could maybe tell him you're his new son-in-law." She caught his withering stare and changed her mind. "Or maybe not. Maybe that's a phone call thing."

Hank snatched his grandson the moment they reached the gate. The child took an instant liking to the man, even smiling and giving him little baby gurgles. Giles thought his son would have been a better judge of character than that.

"What's his name?"

Hank sat at a table near the food court, and they all joined him, his wife and daughter on each side, while Willow ducked out of this family time to go make phone calls to Xander and Tara. "We haven't decided yet," Buffy answered.

Buffy leaned against her father's shoulder, and Hank put one arm around her, still not turning his sight from his grandson. "Seems like only yesterday you were this small. And then Dawn. God, time goes by so fast. Don't waste it, Buffy. Don't make the same mistakes I did."

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "So you're not mad at me anymore?"

"At _you_? No, never." Buffy spared Giles an apologetic look before her father grabbed her attention again. "Look, honey, he has the greenest eyes. You ever seen such green eyes?"

She touched the baby's hand softly, letting him curl his fingers around hers. "Actually, yes. He has Giles' eyes."

Hank scoffed at that, lifting the baby into the air a few times until he elicited another smile. "I prefer to think of it the other way around, that your no-account husband has my _grandson's_ eyes."

Buffy gave her watcher a panicked look. "Husband?" she repeated timidly.

Hank had the baby curled against the crook of his elbow again, tickling the boy mercilessly. He answered Buffy's question while speaking in baby talk to his grandson. "The nice priest told your grandpa, didn't he? Yes, he did. He told me during the reception. And did your mommy even think that I might like to give her away? No, she didn't, did she? But I would have, even if I thought she was throwing her life away to spend it with your father. Even if I thought he didn't deserve her. Because all I ever wanted was for your mommy to be happy. Yes, it is. Yes, it is." Hank laughed then as the baby scrunched up his face, smiled, and made a sound somewhat close to a giggle. "You'll make your mommy happy, won't you, little…?" He turned to his daughter and admonished her, "You'll have to give him a name soon, Buffy, or I'm just going to start calling him George."

"Dad!" She gave him a playful swat on the arm.

Hank rose from the table. "Honey, would it be okay if I just took him for a little walk? Just around the terminal?"

"Of course."

After Hank was out of earshot, Susan reached across and grasped Buffy's hand, giving her a knowing wink. "I told you he would come around. Babies have a way of melting even the most stubborn hearts."

Buffy sighed. "Yeah."

"Give him a little more time, and he might even come around on the subject of your Mr. Giles. He _was_ a little hurt that you left him out of the wedding. Well, after he was done being ticked off about you getting married at all. I actually had to remind Hank that he was currently dancing at his own wedding reception with _his_ much, much younger bride, and that _my_ parents were okay with it. I just wouldn't expect him to ever call your Mr. Giles 'son'."

Buffy laughed at that. "Thanks, Susan."

Her new stepmother looked down at her hands and continued shyly. "One more thing. It might be nothing. But I know you're still looking for your daughter, and it might be a lead."

Giles leaned forward, his attention caught. "Go on."

Susan glanced between them, and then pulled out a small slip of paper with a name and a phone number. "I have a lawyer friend in LA, who occasionally arranges adoptions. We talk on the phone sometimes. Her name's Emily Lochter. She said an older man came in about five or six weeks ago after his daughter-in-law had died giving birth to twins. It bothered her, I guess, because he had her arrange all the paperwork so he could be official legal guardian to his grandson, but he had her find an adoptive home for his granddaughter. Emily couldn't believe he wouldn't keep them both. He had money enough to hire help."

Buffy's eyes lit up, and she threw herself into Giles' arms. "It's her! I just know it."

Giles patted his slayer's back affectionately. "Thank you, Susan."

She shrugged. "I don't know if it's the same guy, but it might be worth a try."

Hank returned with the baby before too long, and Willow rejoined them soon after. The small group made light conversation for a few hours, consistently avoiding the topic of the little girl who was still missing. Hank wouldn't give up his grandson to anyone, allowing Buffy to take him only to nurse, and then claiming him again as soon as she finished. Hank even changed the child's diapers, which was more than Giles ever expected him to do.

Hank's mood seemed much brighter than the last time they'd seen him. He recounted tales of Buffy and Dawn's first days, embarrassing his daughter terribly when he confessed to Giles that they'd had a helluva time getting her to keep her clothes on between the ages of two and three. His animosity towards Giles seemed to have lifted somewhat as well, and he even offered the watcher some advice about women and babies.

"Joyce was always telling me it was my turn to get up with the baby. So I'd just get up. Wouldn't be until the next morning that I'd realize she hadn't gotten up once. Buffy's liable to try the same thing on you, just wait and see." Hank paused for a moment as they announced something in Spanish. "They're calling your flight, Buffy."

Susan reached for the baby. "Can I hold him even once before they leave, Hank?" He passed the child over, and she carried him to the gate.

They milled around, waiting to board, Giles constantly adjusting his crutches beneath him. Another passenger came over to admire the baby, speaking in Spanish to Hank and Susan. Giles translated a little for Buffy, knowing she was feeling left out. Hank looked up at that, asking the watcher if he spoke Spanish fluently.

"He speaks like five languages fluently," Buffy boasted proudly. "He can carry a conversation in like another three or four."

Hank looked reluctantly impressed. Giles blushed humbly. "Yes, well, Spanish tends to fall in the latter category. I never used it enough to become completely fluent, although as Buffy said, I can generally get by with it. If we were talking about archaeology or the occult, I might even pass for a native speaker."

Hank seemed uncomfortable with the brief mention of the occult, even knowing that Giles owned a magic shop. The watcher wondered what Buffy's father would think if he knew his daughter was the Chosen One, the Slayer, the very reason they still had a world in which Hank could disapprove of his new son-in-law and then go home to his secretary-turned-wife and continue to neglect his family for the almighty dollar, or in this case the peseta.

The stewardess called for pre-boarding, first in Spanish and then in English. With Giles' broken leg and their tiny baby, they certainly qualified. Willow politely said her goodbyes and then boarded with their carry-ons. Buffy gave Hank and Susan each a hug goodbye, retrieving her son from her stepmother. Susan gave Giles a hug as well, and Hank actually offered out his hand. Giles took it awkwardly, balanced as he was on his crutches. The two exchanged some words in Spanish as they shook hands, and then Giles and Buffy boarded the plane.

As soon as they were seated comfortably, Buffy turned to her husband and asked, "So what did my dad say to you?"

Giles sighed. He was only surprised that she had waited until they'd gotten to their seats. "If he had wanted you to hear it, I'm sure he would have spoken English."

Buffy pouted at him as she adjusted their baby in her arms. "Come on, spill! You're not supposed to keep secrets from your wife. I think that's in the vows there somewhere. Just tell me, was it bad or good?"

Giles smiled patiently. "It was good. It was an apology of sorts, or at least as much of an apology as I'm ever likely to get from your father."

Buffy settled up against his side with a smug grin. "See? My dad's not always a total jackass."

* * *

Emily Lochter was with another client when her secretary buzzed over the intercom. "Shirley," she said with an apologetic look at her client. "I'm still with my two o'clock."

"I know, but these people insist that it's an emergency. They said Susan Summers sent them."

Emily sighed. Susan was an old friend, had been her secretary when she was just starting out in the offices across town, and if they were Susan's friends, she would make time for them. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Caufield. Would you mind waiting for me for five minutes? I'll be right back."

She stepped out in the lobby, where she was greeted with a middle-aged man on crutches and two younger women, a redhead and a blonde carrying a baby. The blonde looked very familiar. "Can I help you?"

"I certainly hope so," the man answered. "My name's Rupert Giles, and this is my wife, Buffy, and our friend Willow. Susan told us you might have some information about Mr. Hampton and an adoption you arranged for him."

Emily finally placed where she had seen Buffy before. "Weren't you a bridesmaid in Susan's wedding?"

"Yes," Buffy answered, swaying with the babe in her arms. "I was like hugely pregnant, though. With twins."

Twins. Emily leaned over to get a good look at the baby, who was awake and content in his mother's arms. He had such distinctive green eyes, just like the boy Mr. Hampton had brought in. "Oh my God! Are you saying that man stole your twins?"

Mr. Giles simply nodded, and Emily led them to a side conference room. "Wow. I never imagined. I did think it was odd that he could give up his own granddaughter so easily. But he seemed genuinely attached to the boy. I guess I just believed that it was his grandson. And he had all the necessary paperwork."

"We're not blaming you, Mrs. Lochter," the man on crutches insisted. "I'm sure he was able to make it all appear completely legitimate. We just want to know where our daughter is."

Emily felt a wave of sympathy for these people. To have their children stolen… She couldn't imagine what they were going through. And she couldn't help but feel guilty for her part in their tragedy. She wished she could just give them what they were looking for. "I'm sorry, Mr. Giles," she said, "But I usually only arrange adoptions within families. You know, stepparent to child. I had to contact a private agency to find an adoptive home for your daughter. I'll give you their name, and the lawyer I worked with, but private firms are notorious for keeping their adoption records extremely confidential. That's why so many couples use them. You might have to get an order from a judge before they'll turn over their records."

Buffy looked on the verge of tears and focused her attention on the baby in her arms. The man simply thanked her, took the names and numbers she gave them, and left with his two companions.

* * *

Longsworth could not have anticipated using a lawyer who was friends with Buffy's new stepmother. That was the hand of Chaos. Ethan had set his spell in motion without knowing the possible repercussions it might have. It could bring the Watcher and Slayer closer to their children, or tear them even further apart. But that was the joy of chaos, in its unpredictability. So far it had worked both for them and against them. Through its trail of coincidence and luck, it had led the two parents straight to the man who had stolen their twins. But as Chaos often did, it threw them unexpected curves. Chaos gave them their son, but denied them their daughter. For Longsworth did not have her. Emily Lochter did not have her. The private adoption agency did not have her. They had only a name and an address to give Watcher and Slayer. And when the two parents went to claim her, they found only more misfortune. The baby girl at that name and address was Hispanic and not theirs. The agency pleaded computer error and misfiled papers and incompetent secretaries. The truth was Chaos had swallowed Buffy and Giles' daughter. She was gone.

* * *

Buffy, Giles, and Willow sat in the taxicab outside the adoption agency for long silent moments. Buffy could think of only one more thing to try.

"Where to?" the driver asked again with irritation. "The meter's running, and you're going to have to pay either way."

"The Hyperion," Buffy said finally. She met Giles' surprised stare with a determined one of her own. "If he can help us find our daughter, then you're going to swallow your pride and ask him for his help."

Giles turned to watch the streets pass outside the cab window. Buffy knew her first lover and her last could work together if they had to. After Angel had returned from hell, Giles had reluctantly taken him back into the gang, never again the friends they had been, but still cooperative colleagues. The watcher had even sat beside the vampire's deathbed in the very same room that had echoed with his own screams only the year before, sat beside his torturer as Angel slowly died from Faith's poison. Giles had sided with Buffy when Wesley had informed them the Council would deny the vampire his cure. He had hosted Angel in his home as a guest over Thanksgiving the following year, when the vampire had returned to Sunnydale without Buffy's knowledge.

Giles had done these things, because intellectually he knew that Angel had a soul as Angelus had not. Intellectually, he couldn't hold Angel responsible for the things Angelus had done, not for Jenny's murder, not for his own torture. And above all, Giles was an intellectual man. But Buffy could see it in her watcher's eyes when she mentioned Angel's name and every time the two of them were in the same room. Buffy knew that Giles' mind and heart were at war where Angel was concerned. She didn't blame him for it. She understood it all too well. Her own mind and heart had warred over Angelus, her mind trying to convince her that he was a killer and a demon she should slay even while her heart continued to whisper to her that some part of him was still Angel.

When he had returned from hell, whole and souled, she had felt peace. Angelus was no more than a bad memory for her, and when she looked at Angel, she only saw _her_ Angel, who she loved. But Buffy knew that Giles would always see Angelus in those eyes, would always feel the primal jolt of fear, and would always return to those memories of the factory and the mansion. No matter how he tried to intellectualize it. Buffy knew that he would likely have terrible nightmares tonight, but it was a price she was willing to pay to find their daughter.

She stepped out of the cab with their son, Willow and Giles following a few steps behind. It would be the first time she saw any of the LA group since her death. She had spoken to Angel briefly on the phone all those months ago, but she had asked him not to come.

The hotel lobby was large and spacious, elegant couches and a wide staircase leading up. She approached the desk, leaning over to catch a glimpse of Cordelia in the back office. The phone rang, and she answered it.

"Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless… Omigod, Buffy!" Cordelia caught sight of the slayer halfway through answering the phone and simply hung up on their potential client. "Wesley! Angel!" she screamed, heading around the desk to greet the new arrivals. "Willow! Giles! What happened to your leg? And whose kid?"

Angel and Wesley came running moments later, probably thinking Cordelia was having another vision. They stopped short when they saw the small group from Sunnydale.

"Hi, Angel," Buffy said quietly.

"Buffy." Angel always seemed to say her name like a prayer.

"Come meet my son," she told him.

"_Your_ son?" Cordelia exclaimed. "It hasn't even been nine months since you came back to life. God, Giles, you sure didn't waste any time."

They didn't bother to explain the Slayer heat or the short pregnancy. None of that mattered. They were here on business. Buffy watched Angel as he watched her. He seemed hurt. Wasn't this what he wanted for her? Didn't he leave her because he wanted her to be with someone who could walk in the sun with her, who could make love to her, who could give her children? He had hated Riley for being that man. Would he hate Giles even more for giving her the children that Angel never could?

"I didn't know you were coming," Wesley said.

"Neither did I," Buffy responded. She handed over the baby to Cordelia when she asked for him and stepped closer to her ex-lover and ex-watcher. "We need your help. We had twins. A son and a daughter. But they were stolen, and we've only managed to find the boy."

Wesley frowned, polishing his glasses just as Giles did. Buffy wondered if that habit was taught in watcher training. "They could have been taken by someone wanting a Slayer's child." He replaced his glasses and looked past her towards Giles. "Have you checked the _Rohannon Chronicles_? I think I recall reading about a couple different cults—"

"No, no, no," Buffy interrupted. "We already know who took them and why. We totally took care of that already. But the guy put our daughter up for adoption through some LA firm, and now they can't figure out who they gave her to."

Cordelia gasped. "The LA firm isn't Wolfram and Hart, is it? 'Cause those guys are seriously evil."

Buffy looked at her blankly. "No. It's just a small private adoption agency. I guess they're getting huge fines for shoddy record keeping, but that doesn't help us find our daughter. I thought a private detective might be able to get the job done. And hey, I just happen to know one."

Angel nodded. "Of course. I think I know where we might start."

The LA investigators took their new clients to a bar. Buffy thought it was a strange way to conduct business, but she didn't argue. The place was filled with patrons and employees of the demony persuasion. It reminded her somewhat of Willy's back home, except with class. A Chaos demon with a large dripping rack of antlers was standing on stage singing.

"Look, Giles, karaoke!" Buffy said brightly. Giles only groaned.

A green man with horns and the most hideous purple suit that Buffy had ever seen came over immediately. "This is neutral territory," he said to Buffy. "So don't go slaying any of my customers, chicky."

Buffy wondered how the man knew her so quickly. Outside of Sunnydale, demons didn't usually recognize her on sight. Before she could ask, the green man addressed Angel.

"So this is the infamous Buffy? Now I finally see what you've been mooning over. Not bad." He extended one hand to the slayer. "I'm the Host. Pleased to meet you."

Buffy shifted the baby in her arms and shook his hand.

"What a cute kid you got there, too. We don't usually get kids in here, as you might imagine. Angel, you didn't tell me your slayer had a kid?" he scolded.

"I didn't know," Angel muttered. "Look, we need your help. Their daughter is missing, and we thought you might give us a lead on where to find her."

"Twins!" the Host exclaimed. "Well, this should be interesting. I'll need the daddy to sing too. A duet."

Angel nodded towards the watcher, but Giles was aghast. "Sing?"

The Host motioned them further into the bar, clearing a nearby table of a couple lingering customers. "Go up to the bar," he told them. "They'll give you a free drink." The three from Sunnydale and the three from LA sat together at the table, the Host hovering behind them. He addressed Giles, sparing Buffy a few glances as he spoke as well. "Here's the score. I can see things, visions if you will, a little peek into somebody's future. But you gotta be singing for me to see anything."

"I rather think not," Giles stated plainly.

The Host shrugged, waving a waiter over with drinks for his new guests. "You want me to find your missing kid? Then I need Mommy and Daddy on stage singing together. You can't be any worse than Angel singing Manilow."

Buffy laughed, mouthing the word Manilow as she threw Angel an incredulous stare. He dropped his eyes down to his drink quickly. Willow giggled too, and Angel grew even more uncomfortable.

"He's really bad," Cordelia assured both women.

"Alright, alright," Angel snapped. "I thought we were talking about Giles and Buffy singing."

"Very well," Giles conceded with a sigh.

Watcher and Slayer rose from their chairs. "Angel," Buffy said, "hold the baby while I'm on stage." She didn't know it was possible for a vampire to pale, but he did. "Come on. You can't tell me in 250 years, you've never held a baby." She placed the child in his arms before he could argue further. She could feel Giles' cold stare boring into her back, but she didn't care. Angel wasn't going to hurt their son.

Angel smiled slightly, and then the baby began to kick and wave his little fists in the air. Buffy wasn't sure if he could sense the coolness of the undead hands holding him, or if he missed hearing a steady heartbeat, or if he could just sense vampires as his mother did, but her son began to scream in Angel's arms, and she passed him quickly to Wesley who seemed just as uncomfortable. Men. Cordelia and Willow smiled at her in silent collusion. The baby settled in the ex-watcher's arms, and he was just stuck with the child for the time being.

Buffy turned and followed Giles as he hobbled up to the stage. She didn't miss his irritated stare, and replied quietly, "Come on. You can't deny it. Part of you enjoyed knowing your son doesn't like Angel anymore than you do. Another part of you is really hoping he spits up all over Wesley."

Giles hid his smirk behind the song list, as he tried to decide what they should sing. Buffy begged him to pick something that wasn't opera and was maybe written in the last decade. He rolled his eyes when she pointed to Sonny and Cher's "I Got You, Babe."

"I was kidding," she insisted.

"It has to be something you both like," the Host informed them, startling them when he strolled up right behind them. "The words, the meaning, none of that's important. You just have to sing something you like, and I'll get a flash of what you want to know."

Watcher and Slayer finally agreed on a song, a showtune from a musical they had taken Dawn to at the beginning of the school year. Dawn had liked it, and Giles had enjoyed it as well, although he wouldn't rank it on par with any of the classic operas. Buffy had claimed to dislike it, but her mother had given her a taste for the old musicals. Surely from their collection of black and white movies, Giles could see that. Once, he had caught her listening to the CD Dawn had purchased at the show, and Buffy had finally admitted that she'd liked the musical too. Although, that didn't mean she wanted him to drag her off to the theatre every month. She'd much rather go to the Bronze.

Giles sat on a stool, and Buffy leaned his crutches against the wall. They each took a mike and began their duet for the green demon standing off to one side and watching them intently.

Buffy started alone, nervous, but hopeful that this would bring them closer to their daughter. "When I was a kid, I played on this street. I always loved illusion. I thought make-believe was truer than life, but now it's all confusion. Please can you tell me what's happening? I just don't know anymore. If this is real, how should I feel? What should I look for?"

She was grateful to stop singing and give Giles his turn. He really did have a much better voice than she did. He didn't even need to look at the words scrolling across the monitor. He had a really good memory.

"If you were smart, you would keep on walking out of my life as fast as you can. I'm not the one you should pin your hopes on. You're falling for the wrong kind of man. This is crazy. You know we should call it a day. Sound advice, great advice, let's throw it away. I can't control all the things I'm feeling. I haven't got a prayer. If I'm a fool, well, I'm too much in love to care. I knew where I was. I'd given up hope, made friends with disillusion. No one in my life, but I look at you, and now it's all confusion."

Buffy took her turn again, smiling at Giles. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together, giving her a little squeeze to bolster her confidence. She did okay as long as she didn't look out into the audience much. And then she had finished her verse, and it was time for them to sing the last one together. Giles' beautiful tenor made even her voice sound good. Buffy thought they might actually be almost in harmony.

"I thought I had everything I needed. My life was set, my dreams were in place. My heart could see way into the future. All of that goes when I see your face. This is crazy. You know we should call it a day. Sound advice, great advice, let's throw it away. I can't control all the things I'm feeling. We're floating in mid-air. If we are fools, well, we're too much in love to care. If we are fools, well, we're too much in love to care."

The music died, and Buffy blushed as Willow and Cordelia hollered from their table. She turned quickly to pass Giles' his crutches, and then exited the stage without waiting for him.

She reached their table in record time and noticed the way Cordelia was watching Wesley with the baby. Buffy thought the two were just friends, having tried and failed at romance, but there was something about seeing a man holding a baby that really upped his desirability. She left her son with the ex-watcher for the time being. He was happy enough in Wesley's arms.

Giles sat at the table a moment later, and they both waited anxiously for the Host's advice. The green skinned demon patted her watcher on the back, telling him, "You got a good set of pipes on you, boy. I don't know why you were so embarrassed to sing. I could keep this place full if I had you in here every night."

Giles gritted his teeth. "I'm not interested in your comments on my musical talent."

"Right, right," the Host said, glancing at Buffy. "You didn't do so badly either, Slayer. Although, I hope your kids get their father's voice. You could send them on tour."

Buffy could see that Giles' patience was wearing thin. "Just tell us what you saw," he snapped.

The Host bristled and glared at the watcher. "You want the message? Let me tell it in my own way." He pulled up a chair between Wesley and Cordelia, looking straight across at Giles and Buffy. "You're not going to like the message much, I'm afraid. You're not getting your daughter back anytime soon. I see her as a little girl in someone else's house." He held up a hand to forestall their questions. "I didn't see enough details to give you any idea where. Could be LA, could be Canada for all I know. But you do get her back as a little girl. And from there, it could go one of two ways. I saw two possible futures. Dark and light. You might be able to keep her, which would be a very good thing. Or you might lose her again, in which case she would be raised into the ways of darkness. Through all of it, through her and both of you, I sensed the hand of Chaos. I sensed magic twisting events. And whichever way it plays out, whether she will belong to you or to the darkness, I sensed that magic will be what tips the scales in either direction." The Host rose from his seat, straightening his suit. "That's all I saw."

"Perhaps if we sang again?" Giles asked.

The Host grinned. "Feel free. I could listen to you all night. But it won't buy you anything I haven't already told you. The Powers That Be only send me one message, and it'll be the same no matter how many times you sing. But I would like to hear you do Billy Joel. 'The Piano Man' is one of my favorites."

Giles pulled himself to his feet with some amount of irritation. "Let's go," he told the others.

Buffy reclaimed her son, Angel thanked the Host as they left, and they returned to the Hyperion. Giles seemed to think the entire trip was a waste of time. Wesley reluctantly informed him that the Host had never been wrong to their knowledge. Even if it wasn't something Giles wanted to hear, it did seem unlikely that they would find their daughter.

Giles turned on Angel with a cold fury. "You owe me. You owe me for Jenny. You owe me for every hour I spent at Crawford Street." Buffy gasped. Giles never talked about it, especially not with Angel. It was one of those things people pretended never happened so they could stand to be in the same room with someone. But Giles continued, getting right in Angel's face, somehow making himself intimidating even on crutches.

"You do this, Angel, you find my daughter…" His voice broke, and his gaze dropped to the floor. "Find her, and you'll have a clean slate with me. We'll be even."

Angel nodded solemnly. "I'll try."

Giles met the vampire's eyes again. They stared each other down for long moments. Buffy wondered what unspoken things passed in the air between her first lover and her last. Neither of them had ever told her exactly what had happened in the mansion on Crawford Street. She had seen some of the scars, but Giles would never tell her which were from Angelus and which were from his Ripper days. And he would never tell her how he got any of them. Whatever passed between the two men, who each loved Buffy so deeply, harkened back to that day spent in the mansion, back to words and deeds that both had tried to leave behind them. But Giles' eyes now said plainly that he remembered all of it, and Angel's answering shame revealed plainly that he did too.

"I'll try," Angel said again.

Giles accepted that answer and left the hotel. Buffy and Willow said their goodbyes. Cordelia held the baby one last time, and Wesley offered his congratulations to his former slayer. Angel merely laid his hand on the child's head, and then leaned forward to kiss Buffy on the cheek.

"You look happy," he stated.

"I am," she answered.

"Good."

Willow left, and Buffy followed, leaving the three figures from her past behind her. The May Queen and Reigning Bitch of Sunnydale, who had been first friend, then snobby social superior, and then friend again. The ex-Watcher, who had tried to take Giles' place and failed, who had in the end swallowed his pride and allowed her to lead him in the fight against the Mayor. And the Vampire with a Soul, who had loved her from both afar and right up close, who had lost himself by loving her, who she had sent to hell to save the world, who had done the noble thing by leaving her so she could have the kind of life he could never give her, who she had once thought would always be the one true love of her life. She was wrong. What she felt for Giles had eclipsed whatever bright passion she thought she shared with Angel and had consumed whatever part of her heart she thought belonged to her first love. Now she felt only friendship for Angel. And pity for the knowledge that he still loved her.

Buffy and Willow passed a young black man as he entered the hotel. He stopped and gave them a second look. Buffy smiled. This must be Gunn, who she had heard the others talk about. She introduced herself as Buffy, and it was clear that he knew who she was too. But then the cab driver was honking, and Giles was waving for them to get in, and she said goodbye to Gunn as well.

* * *

Buffy heard a scream as she turned the lock and opened the door. Dawn came running down the stairs, hooking one hand out on the archway to slow her momentum and stop in front of Buffy.

"Omigod," she breathed, reaching for the baby boy. Buffy handed him over, smiling as Dawn walked into the living room with him. "He's so tiny. How much does he weigh?"

Buffy laughed. "I don't know. Get out the scale and weigh him."

She helped Willow bring in the luggage, sitting down beside Giles on the couch when she was done. The other Scoobies were circled around Dawn, admiring the baby too.

"He's got the cutest little feet," Tara said.

"He has Giles' eyes," Xander added.

"He is very small," Anya stated. "Is he supposed to be this small, or is he a runt?"

Giles seemed offended, and Buffy patted him reassuringly on the arm, before correcting Anya. "He's not a runt. Dogs and rabbits have runts. He's just a little smaller than most, because he's a twin, but he'll catch up. He's probably eight or nine pounds now, which is what most babies are born at."

"Oh," she said. "Can I hold him?" Dawn passed him to the ex-demon and newlywed. Anya stroked the soft hair on his head. She smiled when the boy did and touched his little fingers and nose. "He's so small and helpless. His skin is so soft, and he has a distinctive smell. I feel an overwhelming desire to reproduce and have my own short person."

Xander looked panicked and reached for the boy. "Okay, An, you're done holding the baby now. It's my turn."

Xander seemed at ease with the infant, and Buffy was somewhat impressed. She never pegged him as being good with babies. She always pictured him as more of the climbing trees and playing tag type of Uncle. She looked over at Giles, and he nodded at her to go ahead.

"So, Xander," she began innocently, "how do you like your namesake?"

"He's a lot cuter than I thought you or Giles…" He trailed off and looked up at the two of them. Very timidly, he asked, "Namesake?"

Buffy exchanged a smile with Giles before answering Xander's question. "We thought he should be named after you and Willow." She stood and walked to her friend, tickling her son under the chin as she said to him, "William Alexander Giles, meet your Uncle Xander."

"William?" Willow sighed with some amount of satisfaction. "Wow, guys, that's… Wow."

Buffy stood behind her sister, slipping her arms around the girl's waist. "When we find his sister, she's going to be Tanya Dawn, after the other three most important people in our lives." Tara, Anya, and Dawn smiled brightly at that announcement, and then fell back into a brooding silence as they each wondered if Buffy would ever find her daughter.

The Slayer saved them all from the silence a moment later, when she retrieved the boy from Xander's arms and told her friends, "There's one more person I want to introduce Alex to. I want to get there before dark, if you guys don't mind."

Giles took his crutches and followed her out. He held the baby while she situated the car seat in his BMW. "We need another car now that my Jeep is gone," she told him.

"Yes," he agreed. "And you need some driving lessons."

"Hey!" she protested, but he continued on.

"I'm quite serious, Buffy. That Jeep in the river scared me beyond belief."

"I wasn't even driving," she answered defensively.

"No, you weren't, but I've seen you drive, and the idea that you could put your Jeep at the bottom of a river wasn't so far fetched. For my own peace of mind, I'd just like you to become more skilled."

Buffy reluctantly gave into his demands as she belted the baby into the seat. Then she stretched out her hand for the keys. "Now's as good a time to start as any. You can be my first instructor." He hesitated, and she scolded him. "Giles, you can't drive with a broken leg. Fork them over." He did, and they arrived at their destination without incident, although Giles had marks in his palms from the armrest.

Buffy sat in the grass, Alex laid across her legs, his little hands trying to catch a dragonfly that kept buzzing in and out of his field of vision. She had her body turned to block the setting sun from his eyes, and she shooed away the pesky insect whenever it got too close. Giles leaned against a tree some distance away, giving them a little privacy.

Buffy plucked a few weeds from the base of the headstone and tossed them aside. Her fingers traced the lines of her mother's name in stone.

"Look, Mom," she said softly. "I'm a mom now too! His name's Alex, and he's perfect. But you knew that already. I know I haven't visited in a while, but you wouldn't believe how crazy the last three months have been.

"I know I'm probably too young for this, and I hope you're not mad at me for having a family so soon, but it was my only chance at a baby. One more drawback of being the Slayer. I hope you're not mad at Giles either. He's really a good man, and he loves me a lot. We both thought really hard about it before we decided on a baby. He was really great through the whole thing. Oh, and we're married now! It doesn't feel much different, but I guess I'm Buffy Giles now.

"I only wish you could be here to see Alex grow up, and make him hot chocolate, and watch old sappy movies with him. But I'll tell him all about you, and so will Dawn."

Buffy sighed and leaned down to kiss her son on his soft cheeks. "Mom, I have a daughter too. Twins, can you believe it? We've looked everywhere for her, but she was stolen and we can't find her. We won't ever stop looking for her, but I'm starting to think that we won't get her back. We have to build a life for Alex and Dawn, and we can't do that if we're searching for our daughter 24/7 forever.

"I guess I would feel better about it if I knew you were watching over her. She probably has a nice home with two parents who love her. She was adopted. I miss her, and I want her back, but I have to think about Alex too. So could you just… I don't know… Just be her guardian angel or something? Make sure she's happy and safe. I think I could be okay if I knew you were watching."

Buffy looked over to the setting sun. It would be dark in less than an hour, and she would need to get home before then. Alex was much too young to take slaying. In fact, he would always be too young to take slaying. She waved Giles over, and he approached somewhat unsteadily, his crutches sinking into the ground on each step. He placed a bouquet of flowers on top of the gravestone, not even attempting to bend over and lay them on the ground. His hand rested briefly against the granite.

"Joyce," he said. "I'm doing my best for your family. They're my family now too. But I'll never be able to take your place, nor would I ever try. You are missed."

Buffy smiled and wiped tears from her cheeks. She lifted her child to rest against her shoulder and stood beside her husband. They studied each other, no words needing to be spoken, whole conversations passing with a single look. She placed her ear over his heart to hear the steady thrumming, and he bent his head to kiss her lightly on the forehead. Then they turned and left the cemetery, walking towards the car and their home.

* * *

Giles nudged Buffy gently, but she only groaned and rolled away from him. He poked her in the ribs, calling her name softly.

"What?" she finally said, sitting up and wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"The baby is crying," he told her.

She listened for a moment and didn't hear anything. "No he's not." She flopped back into her pillows, but mere seconds later the wailing came through the baby monitor again. Giles nudged her once more. "I'm going. I'm going," she muttered.

Buffy climbed over her husband, pausing as she straddled him. She glared. "You're really milking this broken leg thing for all it's worth, aren't you? Let me tell you, I'm keeping count, and when you get that cast off, you're going to owe me a lot of sleep filled nights when _you_ can get up with the baby."

Giles chuckled and pulled her down for a kiss. Their son cried even louder, so they could hear him even without the monitor. Buffy sighed and rolled off of Giles and out of bed, stumbling down the hallway. Giles heard her over the monitor a moment later as the baby quieted and she explained to the boy that his father was a lazy gimp. The boy's father only grinned, settled deeper into his pillows, and returned to a peaceful sleep.

He woke when he felt a slight weight on his chest. Alex was looking up at him with wide green eyes, while sucking on one little fist.

"Buffy?" Giles asked groggily.

She climbed over them to her side of the bed, snuggling up against her watcher's side. "I fed him. I changed him. I rocked him. He still won't go to sleep. I think it's time for Daddy to sing to him."

Giles sighed and hooked one arm around Buffy, pulling her against his chest, and the other arm around his son, gently patting the baby on the back. Giles sang a soft lullaby until mother and child were both asleep. He kissed them each on the forehead, deciding to leave them as they were rather than wake Buffy to put the baby back in his crib.

He thought about how quickly his life had changed, each turn unforeseeable and irreversible. For years he had lived alone, content to be a watcher and defined by that destiny. When Buffy had died, he had found himself forced to play father to Dawn. And then Buffy had returned, had loved him as he never expected, and he was no longer alone. It seemed like they would be like that forever: he and Buffy and Dawn, living in the house and forming their own family. But Fate had decided they were ready for a baby, even if they might not have agreed. Buffy's last chance at a child, and he had reluctantly opted to become a father for real. In only two months, he had not one child but two, both stolen by a ghost from his past.

That's all that Longsworth was now. A ghost. Buffy wanted to believe that her beloved watcher was not a murderer, so he would let her believe that. But Giles knew better. Even Tara had known better, when her insanity had allowed her to see through illusion and self-deception straight to the core of naked truth. She had called him a killer, and she was right. He had killed, not once, not twice, not thrice, but four times. Randall. Ben. Longsworth. Sulla. Buffy might have stopped his hand, but Giles could kill with a phone call as easily as a 9mm. He had pulled in one last favor from a friend on the Council, who had ordered Weatherby and two other special ops to finish the job Buffy had stopped Giles from doing. Longsworth and Sulla's bodies would turn up near the plane wreck he had engineered over Newfoundland, and that would be the end of the mystery. To protect Buffy. To protect his son and his daughter. To protect them, Giles could kill.

Alex squirmed on his chest, and Giles sang softly for a moment until the baby stilled. Becoming a father was perhaps the biggest change in his life, especially without the time that most men got to accustom themselves to the idea. Two months, and he had twins. And a wife.

Giles knew he should be happy. He had Buffy and their son, but he still felt as if half his heart belonged with the daughter he had held for scarce minutes. He felt the weight of his wife and child against his chest and wondered how arms that were so full could still feel so empty. His daughter had disappeared into an endless sea of strangers, and Giles knew that half his heart would remain with her always. He traced the tiny fingers with his own, eliciting a small shudder from the sleeping boy before the baby shook his head and cuddled up closer. Giles kissed the child again, and then closed his own eyes. He drifted to sleep and dreamt of a daughter with Buffy's blue eyes.

* * *

She stirred when she heard the baby crying. She climbed over her sleeping husband and staggered to the nursery for the fourth time that night. The child quieted when lifted from the crib, and she hoped that she could simply rock the baby back to sleep. She felt her husband's arms slide around her waist, and she smiled.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

"I thought I should take a turn," he answered in his deep voice.

She passed the fussing baby to him and made her way back to bed, pausing in the doorway to watch father and child together. He swayed until the fussing calmed and the tiny mouth opened in a yawn. He touched the soft wisps of hair tenderly.

"Come on, Robin, be a good little girl for your daddy."

He sat down in the chair beneath the moonlit window and rocked his newly adopted daughter to sleep.

Finis - July 30, 2001

Next: Book Three: The Family Business  
Part 1: Momma's Boy


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